Skull Island: Perdition
by wolfangel26
Summary: For the survivors of the Venture, Skull Island was a world better left forgotten. Most struggle to move on from the nightmares, some seek to profit from its discovery. Yet this tale is far from over. Something far darker waits for them. A secret world of shadows and secrecy that lies beyond that treacherous isle. Eventual Englehorn/OC, Ann/Jack, maybe other OC pairings.
1. Beginnings

Chapter 1

_**Somewhere in the Atlantic. November, 1933.**_

_Knock, knock._

"Captain," a deep voice called from the other side of the cabin door. The _Venture's _First Mate Benjamin Hayes voice carried an urgent tone.

Captain Will Englehorn turned underneath the blanket of his bunk, looking to the clock on the desk.

_3:25 A.M., _it read. Englehorn ran his hands through his disheveled blonde hair.

"What is it, Hayes?" he asked, his tone no doubt expressed his annoyance at being awoken at such an hour. Mr. Hayes had been assigned to work the helm through the night.

"That _thing_ starting to wake up," Hayes replied.

Englehorn's icy blue eyes shot open. Though drowsy, he was awake.

"Tell Choy to use more chloroform!" he ordered as he grabbed one of his wrinkled maroon shirt from a nearby chair, pulling it on before grabbing his boots. His worn pants were in a worse shape than his shirt. However the state of his wardrobe was the least of his worries. Between the pitiful, crippled state of his ship plus the addition of the new "passenger", his mind was overwhelmed enough as it was.

The only silver linings to be thankful for were the survival of what few crewmen the ship still had. Hayes had survived. Lumpy the ship's Cook had also managed to make it through, as well as Choy, Jimmy, and two others. The rest of his crew which dared the Jungle's wrath, to save Ms. Ann Darrow from a worse than horrid fate, had all lost their lives to the perils of the island.

It had been a few weeks since they had left that God-forsaken island, and the chill of the northern winter was beginning to show. At night, occasional snow fall would descend upon the lone tramp steamer in the Atlantic.

The memories of the island haunted Englehorn, especially at night. He had survived the horrors of the submarine warfare in the World War which rocked all of Europe to its core. But the brutal wilderness of Skull Island was so intensely burned into the _Venture_'s Captain's mind. Truth be told, he had an original deal with Carl Denham, the blasted movie director, to travel to Singapore for a grand, _two_ grand actually. When the trip was underway, Denham had convinced him to keep course into unknown waters. Hayes was against it from the time the ship was apparently following a course far from the shipping lanes. Englehorn should have heeded the warnings his First Mate had offered. But no, the time in Kaiserliche Marine, or the Imperial German Navy, may have molded a bigger ego than he would have imagined. He thought he knew what he was doing. Old tales of haunted islands and monsters were nothing to him. Of course, he was wrong, and it nearly cost him his crew and his ship and his life.

A low and row sounded from the hull. It was the only place they were able to keep Kong. By removing the cages during the storm and throwing them overboard to lighten the weight of the ship, there was a space just barely large even to cram that oversized ape in, like sardines in a can. But what more could he do? He didn't want that damned animal, but he needed the money. He still remembered the conversation after they had rescued the survivors from the Spider Pit.

"_I knew you would be okay," Captain Englehorn said, panting as he put up his Thompson Sub-machine gun. "That's the thing about cockroaches."_

_Carl Denham, his tired expression and his face showing his fatigue and melancholy at the loss of his cherished tripod and camera. His film was ruined. His heart was heavy._

"_No matter how many times you flush them down the toilet. They always crawl back up the bowl," he said spitefully._

"_Hey buddy, I'm out of the bowl," Carl replied, panting. "I'm drying my wings and trekkin' across the lid."_

"_Captain," Ben Hayes called, taking the hand of Bruce Baxter as the actor helped pull him up. He gave Baxter a nod of respect. The man really pulled through with his crazy antics of shooting from the swinging vine and whatnot. Baxter gave a somewhat modest shrug, which was uncanny for a man of his character, as he walked away to help another sailor up._

_Englehorn turned, looking to his First Mate. _

"_Good to see you kept yourself alive," he said, his tone alone let Hayes know he meant that sincerely. Despite being a black man in this era, he had the respect of his captain, which was more than most people did. _

"_Probably wouldn't be if Jimmy had listened to me," Hayes stated. He patted Jimmy on the shoulders as he passed. _

_Jimmy had a smile on his face, running his hand through his hair as he replied modestly, "Ah, it was nothin' . You would have done it for anyone else…"_

_Englehorn folded his arms across his chest, "And what act of foolishness and heroism did the boy perform?"_

_Before Ben could answer the captain, Jimmy interrupted. _

"_Well we were crossing this huge old log across the pit before this huge ape which we think had Ms. Darrow came outta nowhere and grabbed ," the boy recounted with a quick tongue. " was like, 'Jimmy get back', and the ape was just staring at and he was about to throw him before I pointed the gun at him and shot the hand holding Mr. Hayes. I must have hit a sensitive spot or something, but He dropped Mr. Hayes so fast, but then he came after us on the log. I nearly fell off when he was rolling it, but Mr. Hayes jumped onto the log and grabbed me then helped Lumpy get Choy. But then the log rolled off the edge and…"_

"_Okay Jimmy, we get it!" Hayes laughed, ruffling the kid's hair. The boy had grown in the past few days. He was beginning to be more of a man. And Ben respected him for that._

_Jimmy laughed a little, putting his hat back on. "Yeah, well it was all pretty thrilling."_

"_Oy, watch it you bloody fool," Lumpy's voice was hard to miss. Englehorn and the others turned to him as Choy helped him up._

"_Don't be so moody," Choy snapped back. "You just mad cause you lost hat! Don't be taking it out on me!" _

_Jimmy couldn't help but laugh as Lumpy gave Choy a withering look. But you could tell that the man was relieved he didn't lose his friend. If Ben hadn't helped pull Choy up, Lumpy knew that he wouldn't have survived the fall. Then something else caught his attention. Movement across the pit._

"_Driscoll…" he said under his breath._

_All eyes shifted to the other side of the pit._

"_Jack!" Carl called._

"_Driscoll! Don't be a fool," Captain Englehorn yelled across the chasm. "She's dead."_

_Jack Driscoll, Denham's playwright, turned. He was breathing heavy, sweat a mud covered him from head to toe. As tired as he was, the look in his dark eyes revealed that he wasn't finished. He would save Ann, even if it was the last thing he ever did. _

"_She's not dead," he called back. "I'm gonna bring her back."_

_A moment of silence, and Jack turned around and started off._

"_Jack!" Carl called again._

_Jack stopped, took a breath a turned._

"_Take care, buddy," he said. Something in his voice made Jack believe he was actually meant it._

"_Keep the gate open for me, would ya?" he asked._

"_Sure thing, pal," the director replied._

_With that said, the New York Playwright turned, and disappeared in the tunnel which led to Kong…and hopefully to Ann. _

_The rest of the crew started back towards the gates. Lumpy and Choy, who each took a moment to regain their strength, were the first two to head back with Preston, Jimmy, and Bruce right behind them._

"_Captain," Denham said, walking over to the captain. But Englehorn was in no mood to be annoyed by him right now. _

"_Go away Denham. Head back to the gates. It's over," he said in disgust. "Your film is gone."_

"_Wait!" the Director protested with vigor. "And Jack? He's gonna bring her back, Englehorn. And that ape will be right on their heels…"_

"_Denham…" Englehorn started. The tone in his voice should have been warning enough._

"_We can still come out this okay," Denham stated. "__**More**__ than okay…"_

_Hayes was still standing there. He didn't like the direction this conversation was turning._

"_Think about it. You got a boat full of chloroform we could put to good use…" Carl stated. There was something his look that bordered determination and insanity. Hayes could see it. He only hoped that Englehorn would see it too. This voyage should have been over long ago. _

"_You want to capture the ape?" A moment of silence, and Denham didn't refute the accusation. Englehorn could only laugh at the thought. "I don't think so."_

"_But isn't that what you do? Live animal capture? I heard you were the best…" Denham stated. Flattery and persuasion was bound to work._

_Englehorn didn't reply. He shot a glance at Hayes. The look his first mate gave him was enough to let him know that he didn't like this idea at all. Truthfully, Englehorn didn't like the idea any more than Hayes. But could he refuse? Without his film, Denham was broke, and soon to be arrested once they reach New York. How the hell would he get any money from this voyage? The only way was to bring something back worth some money. And that ape would bring in some big bucks. _

_The Captain kept this idea in mind as he began walking back to the ship. _

"_Captain!" Hayes called after him. "You can't be seriously thinking about this!"_

"_Do we really have any option?" Englehorn replied. "Do you know how much this fool cost me? Cost us? It will take months to repair the ship properly. Not to mention the fact that Denham has literally nothing gained from this fiasco! His godforsaken film, no matter how ridiculous, was the only way we would get paid. And now I've got no money to pay the salary of my crew!"_

_Englehorn didn't realize his tone had increased. Hayes stood back and let the Captain gain a breather from his rant. A lot of frustration was bound to build after the time spent on this damn island._

"_You really think the money would be worth it?" Ben tried to reason. "I've looked into that thing's eyes. He's smart. Worse, he gets angry pretty damned quick. We can't bring that thing to New York. Imagine the damage it could cause if someone has incapable as Denham were to have a say-so in its handling? Eh? Ever think about that?" _

_Englehorn let his anger simmer. He hated arguing with Ben. Worse, he hated it when Ben was right. _

"_We don't have any option but to do this. Chances are, since I failed to turn my ship around and bring Denham back, they may have just filed for my arrest as well. My ship will be impounded by the government and I will end up in prison right with that ass, Denham. If we have nothing to show for it, the __**Venture**__ is gone. I've thought about that, Ben!"_

_Sighing, Ben wiped the sweat from his brow with his hand as he took a deep breath._

"_This ain't a good idea, Captain. This thing is dangerous. He ain't just an animal. He's a monster!"_

_The Captain sighed, giving nothing but a small shrug as he patted his First Mate's shoulder._

"_We get him to New York. He won't be our problem after that," he stated in finality. That was all he was going to say. The matter was finished._

_Ben just stood there, his hands on his hips and his eyes downcast. This was wrong. He knew it. That ape wasn't like any animals he'd helped the Captain capture in the past. His eyes were haunting, intelligent as if he were calculating the situation. The look in that beast's eyes was stuck in Ben's mind. It was if the creature had stared into his very soul. It reminded him of a man sizing him up as a friend or foe, like he was casting judgment on him, a foreigner in his vast island kingdom. He thought of the ape as a King, because there was no way there was anything more intelligent or fierce on that island. _

_Looking up, the First Mate spotted Denham staring out across the chasm. He wanted that ape more than anything. Ben feared what lengths a desperate man would go to get what he wants in this place. Turning, he made sure his gewehr 98-bolt action rifle was loaded and ready for the trek back to the Wall._

Moments later, Englehorn was pulled out of his recap of that day three weeks ago as Ben Hayes entered the bridge. The Captain had taken over as helmsman for Mr. Hayes as he told Choy his orders to give Kong another dose of chloroform to keep him under control for the voyage. Despite the unruly hour of being awoken, he had ordered Ben to notify him each time Kong starts to wake. Though a seaman, Englehorn was efficient at capturing animals and knew how to tend to them. As a bonus, he had Choy. Choy had helped his father and grandfather back in Shanghai with animal capture.

Choy and his father had taught Englehorn how to properly capture wildlife, and the _Venture's_ business, however questionable it may be in terms of ethics, was rather lucrative, even if the ship's appearance didn't show it.

"Choy's giving the beast another dose of chloroform," Ben said, standing in the door. "Ms. Darrow still hasn't left his side."

"I didn't think she would," Englehorn replied in an annoyed tone.

Since their departure from the island, Ann Darrow was a changed woman. She didn't smile much, or at all for that matter. No one really did. Carl barely left his cabin. Baxter, Preston, and Jack started helping out the crew in their duties since so many were dead. Jack sat with Ann each night, and he would hold her and help her sleep.

At first, Jimmy and Ben were distant from her. She blamed them along with Carl and everyone else who helped capture Kong, despite the protests she made against them. But Jack spoke with her, and a few days after leaving the island, she apologized to them both. She meant it sincerely, and nearly broke out into tears as she spoke with them. She heard how they had risked their lives to rescue her and how so many died. They forgave her. Jimmy even gave her a warm hug. She tried to persuade them to not hate Kong. She recounted all the tales of how he protected her. Ann tried to make them understand that he felt threatened by the crew, and that in truth he was only trying to protect her. Days of trying to make people understand passed by. She knew Jack understood, even if he didn't show it. Jimmy started believing her, at least after spending time with Kong in the hull. Though not fully conscious, he would from time to time interact in a drowsy manner by holding out his hand, or paws, Jimmy guessed.

Mr. Hayes was unconvinced that Kong was anything but a monster. But he learned not take it out on Ann. For the next couple of weeks, when everyone was asleep, he would sit down in the hull with Kong, and watch him as he phased in and out of consciousness. He would stare into the creature's eyes. Those same dark eyes stared back. But instead of anger, he saw sadness. Kong was no longer in his kingdom, free to roam amongst the beasts. He was alone, trapped in a cage. He left Kong when dawn approached, putting his hand on the creature's paw for a moment before walking away.

The next day, he spoke with Ann.

"Ms. Darrow," he said, getting her attention as she sat alone in the hull next to Kong. She was reading the play Jack and written for. She must have read it a thousand times, but she never put it down.

"Mr. Hayes," she greeted with a small, forced smile. She barely ever smiled. Her heart was too heavy.

"I wanted to apologize," he said. "I didn't want to capture Kong. But what was done was done. I don't hate him. He…isn't just an animal. But my orders are orders."

Ann was quite for a moment, "Once in the army, always in the army."

Mr. Hayes gave a small, sad smile.

"I'm truly sorry," he said.

"I know. But you shouldn't be," she stated. "You almost died, trying to save me…"

"Ms. Darrow," Mr. Hayes interrupted. "You've already thanked us for that."

"I know, but I should thank you again. And again. And again. All of you—Choy, Jimmy, Lumpy, Jack… Because what you all did, you didn't have to do. You could have left. Men would still be alive if you did. But you kept going. You came back! And I can't thank you enough…." She said. "But Kong…he came back for me, too. He didn't understand that I didn't belong. He wanted to protect me. Just like you and Jack and all the others did. So I don't hate you for this. I wish with all my heart it never happened. That Kong would be safe on his island. That we would have just left before ever stepping foot on that island. But you're right. What's done _is_ done. "

Ann had finally put down her book, and had begun pacing back and forth as she spoke. Kong started stirring, but only to fall into a deeper sleep. When Ann stopped, he caught her breath. Ben could tell her nerves were nearly shot.

Ann looked at Kong, then back at Hayes.

"What will happen to him?" she asked.

Ben gave a shrug. "All I know is Denham takes him once we reach port. After that, we get repairs and we're done. We go on to another port."

Taking a seat, Anne sighed. "I was afraid of that."

Looking down, Ben could hear the sadness in her voice.

"Thank you, ," she said finally, looking back to him.

"Don't thank me, Ms. Darrow," he replied sadly. "I'm one of the men who took him away from his home."

A moment of silence followed, before Benjamin Hayes left the hull and returned to the bridge.

One of the younger crewmen was working the helm and Hayes could hear Englehorn going through what sounded like paper, maybe charts or something. When he entered the room, he spotted his captain pulling out some records. Mostly, Englehorn favored classical music. When asked once, he stated it simply was relaxing.

"What are you looking for?" Hayes asked, getting the Captain's attention with a small knock on the frame of the doorway.

Englehorn looked up, putting out one of his cigarettes. He held up one of the records.

"Beethoven. _Ninth Symphony_," he replied.

After a moment, Ben said, "We'll be in New York by tomorrow evening."

Taking a moment out of his search for his record, Englehorn looked to his first mate.

"Yes we will. And?"

Ben kept his eyes on the captain.

"Are you sure you want to do this? I mean-"

"Are you seriously going to keep at this?" Englehorn interrupted. His thick German voice revealed he was in no mood for further discussion on the subject.

"Yes, dammit, I am!" Hayes retorted. "Kong should _never_ have left that place. We should _never_ have gone there to begin with. What's lost should _stay_ lost!"

Englehorn glared at him, his icy blue eyes burning with anger.

"But we _did_ go there! And Kong _did_ leave there! What's done is done, Mr. Hayes," Englehorn stated. That was that.

Hayes knew when the subject was closed for any further argument. He sighed.

"I hope it's worth it," he said. Quietly he turned and left the room with saying another word.

Leaning against his desk, Englehorn removed his worn cap and ran his fingers through his hair.

'_So do I…_ 'he thought. But there was a gut-wrenching feeling that tore at his insides. It was like some omniscient force was guiding them down a path to which they could not avoid.

Englehorn could sense this force from the moment he laid his eyes on the rocky coast of Skull Island. That place was a relic of the past, all that was left of the ancient world. He could feel something dark and twisted hidden within the core of the island. There were more mysteries concealed beneath the mountains and jungles than the tramp steamer's captain would ever in his wildest dreams dare to uncover.

_**The Bronx, New York City, December 1933**_

The streets were busy this early December morning. Snow had fallen heavily the night before so school was cancelled. Not that it really mattered. In this part of the city, most of the children were from immigrant families that had traveled from Ireland, Italy, and China. And it was rare, especially in these times, that anyone could afford schooling regardless of race. Most families were to be concerned with keeping food on the tables and a roof over their heads.

Situated above a small Italian bakery located in amidst the roaring urban jungle of New York was a small yet comfy apartment. It was exactly a grand loft located in the more wealthy parts of the city, but it was cozy nonetheless.

But it was sure as hell the messiest apartment a person could lay eyes on.

Sprawled about the floor were pages of sheet music, unkempt piles of books, and countless sketches. Leaning against the barren, sandstone-hued walls were various paintings of all sorts of subjects ranging from landscapes to portraits of animals and humans to abstract art. On the table in the living room was a fine cello built of spruce, maple, and willow. Near it lay a violin made of the same materials.

A ring from a telephone sounded throughout the apartment. It sounded again. And again.

From in the inside of a bedroom ounded a small drowsy groan.

Underneath the covers of the bed reached a hand grasping for the telephone on the nearby nightstand. Once her fingers found that godforsaken invention of Alexander Graham Bell, the woman beneath the blanket put the phone to her ears with a growl.

"This had better be one damn good phone call," she warned sleepily.

"I see you're wide awake, Ashelia," replied the voice on the other end of the line. It was the last voice Ashe expected to hear. Sitting straight up, her jaw tightened as she maintained he composure. Taking a deep breath, she coolly continued.

"Cunningham? And here I was hoping you'd be dead by now."

A laugh was her reply on the other end. Jamison Cunningham's thick British accent was apparent in his chuckle.

"Dear child, your tone implies that you sound somewhat cross. Did I catch you at a bad time?"

"When have you _not_ caught me at a bad time, old man?" she growled.

"For god's sake, girl," he sighed. "Here I thought the time off would have done you more good. Still angry, I see."

Ashe rolled her eyes.

"_Time off_?! You make it sound like I took a sabbatical," her tone grew more hostile. "I _quit_, you idiot! I'm finished with it. All of it! The Order, the Council, you... it's been _five years_... Try taking a hint."

"You _really_ believe it's that simple?" Cunningham chided with a chuckle. "Dear girl, you're work with us is complete on our terms, _not_ yours." Ashe held her tongue before she really lost it. True, it wasn't that simple. No one _left _the Order. The Contract made it quite clear.

"The Order would have found you sooner or later, child," he continued. "I take it that since you have just recently awoken that you have not taken a look at the latest headlines which have the city buzzing with excitement."

Trying to stifle another yawn, Ashe stretched her stiff limbs while she groaned.

"What part of '_I quit'_ do you not comprehend?" she groaned, rubbing the remnants of sleep from her eyes.

The humor in his voice faded, "Read the paper, Ashelia. We have much to discuss. I would like for you to meet me at the Café Délice on the corner of 5th and Maple Avenue around 1 o'clock.

Ashe moeaned, "Wait. What article am I even looking for?"

"Believe me, Ashelia, you'll know when you see it. I doubt it will be hard to miss," he said. "See you at the café." And with that said, the line when dead.

Taking a few minutes to consider what the hell she just got herself into, Ashe finally decided to roll out of bed. She lightly touched the hardwood floors with her petite feet, feeling the chill of the floor all the way from the tips of her toes to her forehead. The heater wasn't working as well as she would have hoped, but she could never get the landlord to take a look at it.

After taking a deep breath of the cool air, she stood up. Her form was slender, yet very fit. She wasn't exactly pixie-sized petite. Far from it, actually. She was tall, her figure statuesque and dignified. Her hair fell in raven black locks past her waist with a slight wavy curl. Ashe's skin was a fair, almost pale white in the dim light showing through the frost-covered windows.

She walked to the shabby dresser covered with countless papers and notes just strung about carelessly, looking into the mirror. Staring back at her were dark hazel, rimmed with a deep jade hue. Though she was young in appearance, seemingly no older than her mid twenties to early thirties, Ashe's eyes revealed a heavy heart. Dark circles tainted the skin under her eyes, a result of one too many sleepless nights. She was an old soul, feeling much more aged than what she should be. But all she's seen... all she's done... it's to be expected

Sighing in annoyance, Ashe put her hair up in a loose bun with a few strands hanging loose in her face. She grabbed one of her robes from the hook on the door and wrapped it around her white satin nightgown.

Leaving her bedroom, she made her way down the hall then downstairs to the small bakery. It was closed today. The blinds had all been pulled down low on all the windows and the doors. The owner's father had recently passed away, so he and his family had decided to go out of town for a few days to attend the funeral and meet with family. She walked to the entrance and unlocked the door before cracking it open. A light breeze brought about an icy chill which ran down her spine. Ashe growled. She hated the cold, more than she hated mornings. It was December now, and in New York that equaled a lot of snow and ice. She'd been thinking of relocating to a more tropical climate, but she had her reasons for staying here. New York City had more than a bustling night life and beautiful attractions. In her opinion, fewer places were easier to hide in plain sight.

Taking a quick peek out the door, Ashe spotted the newest addition to the New York Times on the last step of her stoop. Gathering enough courage to brave the cold, she hastily ran down the six steps and snatched the paper as quick as she could before jumping back into the bakery. She shivered and wrapped the robe closer around her.

Before she even looked at the paper she set it down on the one of the tabletops before walking around the counter and putting on a fresh pot of coffee. God she needed coffee. Any caffeine really. After waiting for the pot to finish, she poured herself a fresh cup and added a little bit of cream with a _lot _of sugar. Just how she liked it.

She yawned, taking a seat at the table. She unfolded the paper, not really sure what to look for. Lighting a cigarette, she took a sip of her coffee while her eyes fell on the paper, and narrowed at the bulging heading.

"_**The Eighth Wonder of the World**__"_

"_Pulling into New York City's harbor the day before yesterday, the tramp steamer known as the S.S. Venture brought with it the latest addition to the world's greatest wonders. After departing in early September this year on an expedition financed by Carl Denham, a relatively new rising star within the film industry, the tramp steamer was on a course for the country of Singapore. Sources say that the navigation system had some sort of malfunctioning problems and eventually the ship digressed from the shipping lanes and ran aground on an undiscovered island. It has no official name, yet it is rumored to have been given the appellation "Skull Island" by those who had visited –"_

Ashe couldn't help herself when she impulsively spit out what little coffee she had just drank after reading the newspaper. Her hold on her mug slipped, and she jumped at the sound of it made when it shattered upon hitting the ground.

"What the hell?!" she muttered, followed by various curses in various languages. She rubbed her forehead with the tips of her fingers, feeling a headache coming on.

She took a few deep breaths and looked back at the paper, her eyes now basically scanning over it. Her eyes instantly shot to the words _"Natives"_, _"Dinosaurs", "Kong"_. She cursed again, this time louder, slinging the paper on the floor. She waited a few moments to regain her composure before moving from her seat to clean up her mess. Afterwards, Ashe returned to her room to get changed and meet Cunningham.

It was near a quarter till one and Ashe saw no sign of the old man so she had made herself comfortable at a small table. The waiter approached and asked if she was ready to order, yet all she requested was a simple cup of coffee. Personally, she had little intention on staying long.

The weather was chilly, as usual. How could it not be cold in New York? Especially during this time of the year. But it was sunny, which was something. It wouldn't last long though. But it was Christmas time, which usually helped Ashe's mood. It was her favorite time of the year. The lights. The Christmas trees. The ornaments. Sure, her apartment wasn't decorated. But she was short on cash, so it's not like she could deck the halls or anything. Still, she enjoyed the season.

In her hands she still held that page from the newspaper; her eyes kept flipping from paragraph to paragraph. Stunned was a good word. Shocked. Dismayed. Horrified. Pissed off. They all pretty much summed it up. It was hard to pick just a single word to fully express the extent of her emotions.

Cunningham had a great deal of explaining to do.

The waiter had returned promptly with her coffee, and Ashe was quick to add the correct amount of sugar and cream to it herself.

"Some things never change. Same posture, same attitude, and same choice of caffeine," the old man's voice called from behind her. Ashe didn't even turn around.

Cunningham took a seat at the table, calling the waiter over and ordering a cup of tea. A bemused smirk showed on her face.

"What is it with the English and their tea?" she quipped.

"You're the _last_ person to criticize. I still don't see how you can stand to drink that ghastly liquid. It's like drinking bitter grease eroding the back of the throat. It's hardly healthy for you. Tea is far more the better choice."

"I think you still hold a grudge for a little tea party held in Boston a while back. Oh, and since when did _you_ ever give a damn about me?" Ashe's voice tensed.

"You have your uses, my dear," he answered.

"How_ heartwarming_," she noted sarcastically.

Taking a sip of her coffee, she leaned back in her chair and threw the paper on the table before him.

"Care to explain?"

"Straight to the point, I see. Well honestly, I doubt you would meet under lesser circumstances, correct?" Cunningham stated.

Ashe shrugged. He had her on that one. It wasn't like they were old friends. Far from it actually.

"I thought as much. Given your own history, I knew this assignment was one you might have a personal interest in." Ashe still remained silent.

"Rather funny isn't it?" he mused. "How the past has this tendency to surface in the most peculiar means. Wouldn't you agree?"

Practically slamming her coffee cup down on the table, Ashe took a deep breath and looked to the Englishman.

"That damn island was supposed to stay hidden. _You_ said it would never be discovered!" she said sharply.

Holding his hands up to calm her down, Cunningham sighed.

"I said it was _unlikely_ it would ever be discovered. And besides, the cat's out of the bag, as the saying goes."

A moment of silence fell between them. Finishing her coffee, Ashe took another minute to think before looking to Cunningham.

"You found me after five years to sort out some semblance of damage control."

He smiled, "_Found you_? Silly girl, we never _lost _you."

Ashe's gaze darkened, but he continued, "Your need for some space was understandable, no one denies that. But you've been granted more than enough time to come to peace with the past. It's time you returned."

"Is that an order? Or do I even have a choice?"

"There's always a choice. But you are bound by oath to uphold the Creed. Discarding your Contract is not as simple as you may like to believe. You know the consequences."

Ashe was quiet for a moment before she smirked, "While I loved such a poorly veiled threat as much as the next girl, I've made my decision quite clear. I guess I must decline the invitation. Nice pep talk, though. How about you wait _ten _years this time before the next little brunch.

She pushed her chair back and stood up, but Cunningham cleared his throat.

"I suspected leverage would be required," he sighed. He pulled out a small folded piece of paper. Her eyes looked at the paper and narrowed.

Cunningham slid the paper to her , and she picked it up

"Look familiar?" he asked.

She opened the paper. It read _Too Easy_.

A blank expression remained on her face. She looked to him.

"A tad bit vague. Care to share the context?" she asked innocently.

A chuckle came from the old man.

"It's your handwriting. It was placed where a recently stolen antiquity from the Metropolitan Museum of Art two weeks ago," he smirked. "Would you happen to know anything of the incident?"

Cocking her head to the side, Ashe mused with a naïve look on her face.

"That's rather funny. I recall reading about the ordeal in the paper," she said. "They said it was pulled off by a mastermind. A real expert. You know I've never bothered with petty crime."

"Of course not. Petty crime is far beneath you, Ashelia. But this is a felony charge. That is one year to sixteen months in prison if convicted," he said.

"Oh, _spare me. _The law has far better things to do with it's time than worry about a few robberies," she scoffed. "What with organized crime and whatnot, I'm the least of their priorities."

"I suppose it was a bit too much to hope you'd have learned an ounce of humility," Cunningham said with disappointment.

Ashe folded her arms across her chest, "Lecturing _me _on ego? Now that's rich..."

"Regardless of how you perceive me, I'm here to offer you a proposition."

She laughed, "Really, now? And what might that be? Instead of executing me for desertion, you plan to extort me? Nice to see the Order's methods haven't changed. Listen, this discussion is _over_. No missions... no assignments. I'm done."

Turning to leave without saying nothing, Cunningham stood up, "And if I said, this assignment would be the last? Complete it, and you get your freedom."

"Freedom?" she repeated, coming to a stop. Turning about, her eyes narrowed suspiciously, "I'm listening..."

"After this whole mess is cleaned up, you will be free. No longer called upon by the Order. No more assignments, no more missions. You will be allowed to live your life as you see fit," Cunningham said. "You're Contract will be fulfilled."

Ashe waited a moment before she let out a soft laugh.

"Your offer has a nice ring to it, but I've heard this tune before. Tell the Council...," she paused, then took a deep breath, "Tell them they know where to find me...if they dare." She'd made her peace, so she turned once more. It was no idle threat. She knew what walking away meant.

"The Syndicate is back, Ashe," he said, calling her by her name for the first time.

She stopped mid-step, a few feet away from hailing a can. It was enough to get her attention. Facing Cunningham, her eyes darkened ominously.

"…Come again?" she said, almost in a whisper.

"The Syndicate. They're back…" he said with a heavy voice. "We started noticing some activity recently. The Underground networks have been teeming with whispers of their movements. At first we weren't positive, but in late September we found conclusive evidence which confirmed our suspicions. "

Ashe felt her heart sink quicker than the _Titanic_. She bit her lip, taking a deep sigh. Putting her hands on her hips, she kept her eyes on his.

"You're lying," she said.

Cunningham shook his head, "I believe you should be informed of the story from the beginning. It's a bit more complicated than just a few simple answers could explain."

Her gaze narrowed, her posture stiffened.

"Is this a whole scheme just to get my help? 'Cause honestly….it's a little extreme…even for you," she said.

The old man shook his head. "No scheme. No games. No tricks. This nightmare is as real as you or me."

He stood up, paying for both the tea and coffee. Ashe didn't say it, but the thought to pay her bill crossed her mind. But it would be more fitting to make him pay up.

"Now, you and I are going to have retreat to a less social location. I doubt our meeting has gone unnoticed."

Looking around, Ashe muttered, "Well _you're _the idiot who suggested the café."

"True, but they brew the most fabulous tea. Not as rich as the home brew, but decent enough in this country, " Cunningham said in his own defense, walking to the edge of the sidewalk and hailing a cab.

She smiled, "You were right. Some things never change."

He turned back to her with an inquisitive expression.

"You're still a snob," she clarified.

Cunningham smiled. At least she still had her sense of humor.

"And, by the way," she added. "I never actually said I was going to help you."

"Yes," he replied simply. "You did."

"Oh? And when did you hear that?" she scoffed.

"I didn't hear it. You didn't say it with words, you said it in action. As you always have," he smiled. After taking a moment to muse at her baffled expression he continued.

"You put your hand on your hips. Jus t then, when you turned."

"So?"

"So, it means you've made up your mind. You have only ever done that when you set your mind on something and intend to do it," he replied. When a cab stopped near him he opened the door, allowing her to enter first.

"After you, my dear."

Before stepping into the cab, her expression became serious once more, "This..._evidence_ you have...about the Syndicate?"

Cunningham straightened his posture, "I will have the files delivered to your home address by sundown. I'll explain what I can until then."


	2. Cat and Mouse

Welcome once more. Happy to know you're intrigued enough to keep reading. This is slightly shorter than ther previous chapter due to that fact this week was the week of the infamous "Finals"...I know, dreadfull. But it all worked out in the end. And so, I continue the story. Please read and review!

***********

Chapter 2

Night had descended upon the city that never sleeps. Snow had begun to fall lightly, coating the streets in sheets of white.

Ashe was leaning against a lamp post that was situated on the docks of the New York Harbor. It was relatively quiet at this time. She glanced at her watch; the time read about a quarter till eight. It was still fairly early in the evening, despite the sun's reluctance to stay a while longer.

Rubbing her hands together to generate some warmth, her breath appeared in the cool air. She was wrapped rather well in a few layers of clothing. Her hair was down with a few pesky strands blowing in her face by the gentle, yet icy breeze which froze her very veins. Wrapped in a long, black wool coat with a red scarf and matching gloves, Ashe felt fairly warm despite the low degrees on the thermometer nearby. Underneath the coat she wore a black, button-up blouse with a halter-neckline, and a knee-length matching skirt. Her legs were protecting by silk stockings and black suede heels. A matching silk belt was tied around her mid-section, which only allowed her to look a bit more slender.

Most would doubt a girl with her appearance or attire would fit in around a place like this. But what few dockworkers were on duty barely seemed to take notice of her. Most new her, if only by her reputation. She was a common sight in the less fortunate slums of the city, usually just strolling about. The majority of dockworkers within New York usually hung around the dingy, decrepit bars and inns located within the less glamorous sections of the Big Apple. Ashe kept a low profile, but she was well known throughout the more impoverished circles of society. Not by her real name of course. She couldn't afford the risk. But as a songstress. Known only as Ashe, yet giving the nickname, _Nightingale, _she would perform at various locations for a little extra money. It wasn't exactly the most lucrative career, but it paid the rent.

It was unusually silent, aside from the bellow of the fog horns from various ships pulling in an out of port. The docks were loaded with numerous wooden crates; most already had become frozen in ice from the dew. A few cranes were scattered here and there, unmoving and left unattended for the rest of the evening.

But Ashe was sent here with a specific task in mind. Her eyes scanned the ships stationed throughout the port, keeping her eyes keen for one ship in particular.

Her gaze had finally got sight of it after a few minutes.

The _S.S. Venture._

It wasn't exactly what she expected. When she had heard that the ship was hired to travel with a film crew, she was expecting…well…something more. It wasn't a bad sight by any means. It seemed to be in pretty good shape for a tramp steamer, especially for a tramp steamer that survived _that_ island. A little banged up was all that seemed to be the problem. But maybe it had just seen too many seasons at sea. Still, she was preparing to see a more extravagant vessel. Something like a luxury steamer.

Hell, that's what more of the privileged, upper class members of society would prefer to travel in. Not some rusty little steamboat. But then again, she never really would understand the inner workings of civilizations elitists. Not anymore anyways.

Ashe's mind was wandering again. She set her attention back on the job. She kept watch over the ship, seeing various workers and sailors loading and unloading cargo. She had finished reading in the paper that the ape brought back to the city had already been transferred to an undisclosed location, in preparation for its debut on Broadway. But that wasn't entirely why she was sent.

She kept surveillance on the ship as its crew went about their normal activities. She could tell from afar that repairs were being carried out on the ship. It must have taken quite a pounding at the island. Watching their actions, Ashe couldn't help but study them as they worked.

A small china-man, probably in his late forties or fifties, was scurrying about the docks, gathering various crates and cages from the deck and loading them onto the ship while removing similar objects in disrepair from the cargo hold. His name was Choy, according to the files. An Englishman, presumably around a similar age, was assisting him. He wore a chef's apron, worn and tattered, so she assumed he was the galley chef nicknamed Lumpy.

True, she had been given information on the whole crew of the _Venture_. She didn't really bother to read through everything. Personally, she found the files to be intrusive and unnecessary. Informative, yes. But, still, irritably intrusive.

Who did the Order have files on, exactly? Ashe could never be sure how many people were under their eye. According to Cunningham, those deemed "of interest" to the Order were kept in a systematic system of countless layers of paperwork, which were considerably secured within numerous repositories around the world.

Where these so-called facilities were to be found was anyone's guess. Did it really matter?

More movement caught her eye, and she watched as a tall, stalwart man with dark skin and intimidating posture was directing orders to several of the soldiers. She would have mistaken him for the Captain if not for the provided information which pointed out he was the first mate, Benjamin Hayes. Watching as he started talking to a younger member of the crew, she noted that the boy couldn't be older than sixteen, maybe eighteen at the latest. Jimmy was his name. He was young, regardless. But times were tough, so it wasn't entirely shocking to see the younger generations join the work force.

Ashe sighed, taking another look at her watch. She wondered how long she would need to wait. Her orders….god, she hated the term….were simply to be discreet. Sure, she could do that. She just wished the weather was more accommodating.

More movement caught her eye, and caught a glimpse of the apparent captain of the ship. If his white, weathered cap wasn't enough to point that out, than his authoritative demeanor certainly would. She watched as he ordered his men about, like a captain orders his soldiers. Englehorn, she believed was his name.

Her eyes were locked on him and his crew, studying them from afar. She watched them with a reserved expression masking a strange curiosity. She wasn't entirely sure why they're tedious tasks and bustling activities had perked up her intrigue.

For a moment, the _Venture_'s Captain turned his attention towards her direction. Ashe froze, and not from the icy cold.

_Had he seen me? Heard me? _Ashe wondered.

It was possible. She was under the dull light of the lamp post, so it's more than likely he could have seen her. She felt the strange sensation that she was noticed. For a second, barely in an instant, she thought she saw his eyes on her. Maybe she'd just gotten a little rusty at this. It was more probable he was looking around her. It's possible he just heard a noise. Her hazel eyes were fixed on Englehorn and she could have sworn that she had caught a sight of light blue eyes.

Maybe it was her imagination. Though it sure felt real enough.

Turning her gaze downcast, Ashe took a minute to get her senses together. Maybe she had been going easy on herself for a little too long.

After all, it had been….what….three years. At least since she last at the Council's bidding. And being someone's little lapdog had become very old very quickly.

But another thought crossed her mind at that point. What if it wasn't her? What else could be throwing her off her game?

Shifting her eyes up once more, she noticed that the Captain had returned to his work. Ashe thought she was clear again, but then he glanced back. Once more, his eyes settled on her. This time there was no denying that Englehorn had spotted her.

She sighed softly. No matter. They were going to be meeting sooner or later anyways.

Though by this time Ashe was tired, and certainly not in the mood to be stuck in a snowstorm. With a small smile on her lips, she locked eyes with the Captain and blew a light kiss before she began to walk away. And like a shadow, she became enveloped in the darkness of the alleyways.

They had been docked in New York City' Harbor for nearly three days. The _Venture_ was not in the greatest shape since it had returned. The giant ape, though unconscious for the entire trip, wasn't the most easy-going animal that the vessel had held in all its years.

Englehorn stood on the docks, overseeing the repairs and occasionally going through all the ridiculous amounts of paperwork. He was just relieved that Denham was nowhere near his ship. And that monster. Hayes was still angry at him, of course. He carried out his orders as usual and without question, just as he always has, but he never spoke to the Captain since their argument.

He just needed time to cool off. Perhaps the weather would help. The snow was falling lightly, making it a little difficult to transport the crates to and from the ship since the docks were all iced over. Though wearing his long dark leather coat over a few layers of shirts and khaki trousers with his laced-up leather boots, he still felt the icy chill of the winter atmosphere. It was a huge contrast compared to the raging humidity of Skull Island.

One of his sailors came up to him, handing him more paperwork for the additional cages that were needed to be replaced. They had lost a large amount of equipment while attempting to free the ship from where it had run aground on the rocks. Most of what had to be replaced was furniture, crates, food stores, and other such things.

Since Kong had been taken away in a frenzy of media, it seemed more quite then usual around the ship. He still remembered saying farewell to those who had journeyed with Denham to make this film, which now no longer existed.

Ann was quiet, a few tears in her eyes, as she had said goodbye to the crew. She added apologies for the loss of their friends. It had been a while since the captain had met someone so sincere. She even gave him a hug, which was rather surprising. If he didn't know better he'd say they were really going to miss her. She seemed to brighten up to place. Jack Driscoll had shaken hands with everyone, including him, bidding farewell and thanking everyone for their help and giving his condolences for those who didn't make it. The captain noticed that he and Ms. Darrow left separately, barely speaking words to each other. He found that rather odd.

Baxter and Preston also said their farewells, but Denham left without saying much. The last time they spoke, the director approached him, giving him assurance that he would be paid in full by the next day. And true enough, apparently after giving the creature some publicity, the check arrived the next day. It was a sum of five thousand dollars.

It was more than he expected honestly. It would pay for the repairs, restocking, and hiring a new crew. At least this disaster made some profit. He just wondered at what cost.

"Hey she's a looker," he heard one of his men say quietly. He looked up to see three of his men stopping for a second to take a break near a stack of crates.

"Get back to work," he ordered shortly. Englehorn knew they were tired. Hell, they had been working all day. He looked at his watch, noticing it was starting to get a little late. He still had somewhere to go before this night was over.

He checked again to see if those men were back at their job. They were but he still noticed them glancing past him. His gaze followed theirs and settled on the small figure standing beneath the lamp post about three piers away.

He noticed that the figure was a woman. She had pale skin, perhaps from the cold air, with long dark hair. What stood out was the red scarf wrapped around her.

It was peculiar to see a woman like that in this part of town, especially when she looked like that! He had seen beautiful women before, Ms. Darrow being one of them, but there was something different about this one. Mysterious, almost. And dangerous.

But maybe he was imagining it. He had been working all day.

But he kept looking and soon enough her eyes met his. Apparently she realized he was looking straight at her when she lowered her gaze. What was she looking at? Maybe it was just one more spectator looking to see the ship that delivered Kong. She wouldn't be the first. Many had come throughout the day.

He sighed, turning back to the paperwork. Hayes approached him, needing his signature for something. He noticed the Captain's stare and looked to the woman.

"Another fan?" he asked. Seems he was talking to the Captain again.

"More than likely," Englehorn replied, signing the papers. He looked back again, noticing her gaze once again on him. He saw her smile and blow him a light kiss before disappearing into the darkness.

"You know each other?" Hayes asked, looking to the captain with a raised brow.

But the captain shook his head, still watching where she had disappeared, "I don't…think so…"

Hayes smirked, "She seemed to know you."

Englehorn was silent for a moment, still baffled by the stranger, when he cleared his throat and his mind, settling back down to business. He looked back to the paperwork then to Hayes.

"It's getting late. Let's call it a night," he said, rubbing his eyes wearily.

The First Mate nodded in agreement. He started to turn around, then stopped and looked back.

"Captain, some of the men were wondering if you were gonna let them go on shore leave, for the holidays," he said.

Englehorn looked confused, "Holidays?"

Jimmy laughed. The boy was standing nearby.

"For Christmas, Skipper," he said. "It's like next week."

The Captain was surprised. He had almost forgotten about that. Then again, his mind was preoccupied with a great deal more than usual.

"Well," Hayes said. The Captain remained silent, thinking. "You think that would be okay. Repairs could start after New Years, then we'd be set. "

Englehorn stood still, considering the notion. He nodded, quietly. It would be more than fair to let the men go home to their families. Especially after that near-death experience. Plus, it would give him time to hire more sailors….and to see the loved ones of those who didn't make it.

Hayes returned the nod, and taking the rest of Englehorn's paperwork, he walked with Jimmy to the ship.

Englehorn returned to the ship as well, watching as the men gathered the remainder of their belongings and left for their homes if they had them. Those who didn't live in the area took up lodging in local motels and homes of friends. Only a few remained on the ship, including Lumpy, Choy, and the Captain himself.

While he was still tired, Englehorn still had to meet someone. Leaving the ship, he walked down the quiet streets of the city. It wasn't the best part of town, but he had never really lived a life of luxury so who was he to complain? Not far from the harbor were a few streets which were home to local bars and motels, located about a block away from the Fish Markets. It was here that sailors would often spend their time ashore after long trips at sea.

Things haven't changed since Englehorn was last here. As he walked, Englehorn lit a cigarette and took a hit to ease his stress. His mind occasionally wandered back to the woman on the docks. Something about her didn't feel right, but he couldn't put his finger on it.

The Captain came to a halt before a small, rather run-down pub.

The_ Crows Nest _read the sign hanging above the door. Finishing off his cigarette, Englehorn opened the door, looking around for a familiar face. It was pretty packed, but then again it was Friday night. And he was relieved to find out that Prohibition had been repealed, which explained by business was booming. People, mostly worn sailors who were pretty drunk, were cluttered in the tiny bar like sardines. A small rag-time band played on stage, mostly blues and some Christmas music. He noticed the bar was decorated festively, with garland hung around the walls and lights strung up.

"I'll be damned! Will!" he had heard his name shouted. Turning his head, he looked to the form a burly figure approaching him.

He recognized him immediately as Joe, the club's owner. He was a bear of a man, one served in the military. He wasn't much older than the captain, but he seemed weathered by the hard years.

Quickly enveloping the Captain in a bear hug, he stood back.

"Damn, Will," he smirked. "Been a while! How ya been?"

Englehorn shrugged. It had been a while since he visited, almost 8 months. He didn't have time the last time he was ashore, since the moment he docked he ran into Carl Denham who was looking to hire a ship.

"I know," he sighed. "My apologies, Joe. I was preoccupied the last time we made port."

Joe chuckled, folding his arms across his chest.

"Indeed, you're quite famous on the streets. At least your ship is," he noted. "Brought back Kong, huh? You going to see the premiere? I imagine you'd get front tickets."

But Englehorn just shook his head.

"No, I'm too busy. Besides, I'm content with being rid of that thing altogether," he said. "But I need help, Joe."

The owner gave him a confused look.

"My crew," he said. "Most of them were killed on that island. I need sailors to take their places. I was hoping you could spread the word. Get people to contact me, if possible."

Leaning against the bar, Joe gave a heavy sigh. Indeed he had read in the papers of the horrors of the island. He couldn't be sure what was true and what wasn't, but it sounded horrible nonetheless. Given its name, it was hard to imagine it wasn't exactly a welcoming place. The keeper of the _Crows Nest_ had heard rumors from other sailors of the island. It was a myth, he thought. Just talk of worn men who had too much sea water. But it turned out the rumors were right.

"Yeah…yeah…"he said. "I heard about the deaths. Look, Will, I'm sorry. I know you don't losing men under your watch."

He thought for a minute, then nodded.

"Yeah, I'll be more than happy. Most won't sign up until after the holidays, but I'll start lookin' for new folks," he said.

Englehorn nodded. Joe had always been true to his word. Plus he had experience with hiring men for him before. It was he who recommended Lumpy and Hayes a few years back.

"Alright," he said. "Now that we're caught up and business is settled, why don't you take a seat and enjoy a few drinks. On the house, alright?"

The captain nodded, smiling as he was more than happy to comply. He sat at the end of the bar while he ordered a shot of bourbon whiskey, removing his hat and setting it on the bar.

Waiting until the crew had all left and retired for the evening, Ashe stood in the shadows, completely hidden from all view. She watched as the Captain started walking away from the docks. Now, her job finally began.

She followed him, silent and discreet. She stayed far enough away to where, if he should turn around, he would not notice her, yet close enough so she couldn't lose him. As they walked, she couldn't help but study him. She had read his file which was provided for her, so she knew most of his life, but there were things about people that could never be filed and organized in a drawer.

Their history, name, birth date and birthplace, career, and education could all be typed and indexed. But there was always more to people. Ashe wasn't sure what it was about this particular individual which fascinated her. She had seen men like him before. But there was something different.

She stopped as he did, watching him before he entered the _Crows Nest_. She smiled.

At least they were meeting somewhere familiar.

She waited a few minutes before entering the bar. She had been here before, even sang a few times.

Looking around to see where the Captain was, she heard a chuckle from behind her. Turning around, she grinned at the sight of Joe, the owner.

"What brings you here, Ashe?" he asked curiously.

"Just in the neighborhood, Joe," she beamed. "Thought I' drop by."

"Ashe!" she heard someone say. It was Nick, a sailor who had heard her sing sometimes. Soon faces turned, some recognizing her as the songstress. She heard greetings and cheers from the crowd, some chanting "sing" repeatedly.

Her cheeks flushed and she shook her head.

"Aw, c'mon Ashe," Joe pleaded. "It's been nearly two weeks since your last gig."

She smiled modestly. She liked to sing, true. But she was working now…_really _working. She didn't really have time for this.

"Not tonight," she said sincerely.

"Ashe," she heard someone from the stage call her name….fake name…whatever. She turned regardless.

"Hound-dog!" she gasped excitedly. It had been months she seen the aged, blues singer. He was born in Louisiana, but he came to New York for more work. And because of the color of his skin, he usually only performed for local joints like Joe's. But he didn't complain, he enjoyed the music. He was a bluesman through and through.

Walking up the steps to the stage she gave the old man a hug, as well as some of his band mates.

"What are you doing here? I thought you went to Chicago!" she said.

He shrugged, "I came back. I love this city too much."

She smiled, "Well it's good to see you. I still live above the bakery. You should stop by. I'll be around. When you get a break, I'll buy you a drink."

She started to walk away but Hound-dog grabbed her hand, laughing.

"Hold on, honey. You owe me one song at least, for old time's sake!" he requested.

His request was followed by cheers from the crowd, calling for a song. She shook her head, her eyes scanning the crowd for Englehorn. She figured if he didn't see her by now, he would if she sang. But the crowd was relentless. She looked to Joe and he shrugged helplessly, handing her a shot glass of rum for courage.

Rolling her eyes, she groaned. _Oh well…._

"_I really can't stay…" _she started. Hound-dog picked up on the song and his band started the tune.

"_**But baby it's cold outside!"**_he sang in his deep, soothing voice.

"_I've got to go away!" _She sighed, moving away. But Hound-dog pulled her back gently._**"Baby it's cold outside!"**_

"_This evening as been…." _She sang._**"Been hoping that you'd drop in"**_

"_So very nice…." _Hound-dog held her hands in his. _**"I'll hold your hands, they're just like ice."**_

Ashe couldn't keep from grinning.

"_My mother will start to worry!" _Hound-dog shook his head. _**"Beautiful, what's your hurry?"**_

"_My father will be pacing the floor!"_ She replied_. __**"Listen to that fire place roar!"**_

"_So really I'd better scurry!" _Hound-dog looked sorrowful. _**"Beautiful, please don't hurry!"**_

She smiled, standing behind the bluesman and wrapping her arms around his shoulders before taking a sip of her rum.

"_Well maybe just a half of sip more! _Hound-dog laughed. **"**_**Put some music on while I pour."**_

The tune carried for a little bit then Ashe continued the duet.

"_The neighbors might think…" _Her singing partner was quick to chime in, **"**_**Baby, it's bad out there!"**_

Ashe took the shot of rum and downed the whole thing, bringing the crowd to cheer.

"_Say, what's in this drink?" _she sang smoothly, tossing the glass away and hearing it break on the stage. Another laugh was heard from Hound-dog. _**"No cabs to be had out there!"**_

"_I wish I knew how…" __**"Your eyes are like starlight now."**_

"_To break this spell…" _Ashe's voice carried a little. _**"I'll take your hat, your hair looks swell!"**_

"_I ought to say no, no, no" _She shook her fingers, walking around him. _**"Mind if I move a little closer?"**_

Ashe smiled, "_At least I'm gonna say that I tried!" __**"What's the sense in hurtin' my pride?"**_

"_I really can't stay…" __**"Baby don't hold out!"**_

"_**Ah, but it's cold outside!**__**"**_Their voices combined for the next line.

But it wasn't over yet. The Crowd wanted them to keep going.

The bluesman continued, "_**C'mon, baby!"**_

"_I simply must go!_" she sang, the melody carrying softly. "_**Baby, it's cold outside**_ ."

_"The answer is no_ " she continued. "_**Ooh baby, it's cold outside"**_

_"This welcome has been…" __**"I'm lucky that you dropped in"**_

_"So nice and warm."_ Hound-dog pointed outside. _**"Look out the window at that storm" **_

_"My sister will be suspicious," _Ashe cocked her head to the side. The bluesman caressed her face playfully. _**"Man, your lips look so delicious**_"

_"My brother will be there at the door" _Ashe took his hand in hers, but he continued. _**" Waves upon a tropical shore "**_

_"My maiden aunt's mind is vicious"_ He laughed and repeated his line. **"**_**Gosh your lips look delicious"**_

_"Well maybe just a cigarette mor.e" _He laughed and proceeded. "_**Never such a blizzard before"**_

The tune carried out some more, and Ashe smiled with her cheeks a little flushed at the roar of the crowd.

"_I've got to go home_ ," Ashe reprised. _**" Oh, baby, you'll freeze out there "**_

_"Say, lend me your comb,"_ she smiled, starting to take a small comb that he had in his pocket. But he stopped her, shaking his head. He protested, "_**It's up to your knees out there**_"

_"You've really been grand…." _He cradled her hands carefully._ "__**I shiver when you touch my hand**_"

_"But don't you see…"_ "_**How can you do this thing to me**_?"

_"There's bound to be talk tomorrow_" Ashe sighed. Hound-dog put his hands over his heart. _**" Think of my life-long sorrow."**_

_"At least there will be plenty implied,_" she had a smirk on her face. _**"If you caught pneumonia and died"**_

_"I really can't stay_ ," she said once more. "_**You better not hold out!**_ "

_**  
"**__**Ahh, but it's cold outside.**__**"**_ They finished together, carrying the tune for a little while before it finally ending. The audience stood up in applause, whistling and shouting. Ashe smiled, taking a courteous little bow of her head as she gave the Bluesman a peck on the cheek and walking off stage.

She saw Joe who was clapping. Ashe glared.  
"You owe me!" she growled, "I don't normally perform for charity!"

He smiled, "Aw, it's the holidays. Besides, my friend over there couldn't take his eyes of you."

She followed his gaze, and couldn't help but think of the coincidence. He had pointed out the very captain which she had followed here. He saw that she noticed him staring and looked back to his own drink. Well since Joe was friends with him, this might not be so awkward.

"Nice friend. Just the guy I was here lookin' for, too. I'll be in the back when he wants to talk," she said knowingly, despite Joe's perplexed expression. She gave him a peck on the cheek before she turning and walking to the back. She sat at the booth in the corner, enjoying a little peace after her stage performance.

****

Englehorn had heard some commotion near the entrance. He turned around.

_I'll be damned_, he thought. It was the woman from the docks. What was she doing here?

At first he was confused by all the fuss from the crowd, until he could make out what they were all yelling about. Apparently the woman was fairly well known amongst the people. Perhaps it was just coincidence that she was at the docks.

His attention turned to Joe who had returned to tend to the bar as the woman had been coaxed on stage by the current band and the howl of the audience.

"Hey, Joe," he said, getting his attention. "Who's the girl?"

Glancing at the stage before turning back to Englehorn, he smirked.

"You've been gone a little too long. That's Ashe," replied, pouring another shot. "She's been here for the last couple of months or so, usually just singing and whatnot. "

"Where is she from?" he continued.

The owner laughed, shaking his head knowingly, "You're wasting your time."

The Captain chuckled, "I'm not _proposing _you idiot_…._just curious."

Shrugging, Joe leaned on the back counter, cleaning a glass with rag, "It's not like I could tell ya much. She usually keeps to herself."

Nodding, Englehorn finished a second shot. He figured since his business was done, he'd get ready to leave. He started to stand but something stopped him. A soothing voice from the stage.

His eyes turned in full attention to Ashe as she and the lead singer of the band began a duet, apparently to some Christmas song. In truth, it was like a siren from the sea had starting to sing from some dream. Enchanted was a good word, maybe hexed would be more fitting. She was good, he wouldn't deny it.

Turning back to the owner, Joe spoke up before he had the chance.

"They call her the _Nightingale._ With a voice like that, it's not hard to guess why," he stated.

He leaned back on the barstool again, returning his attention to the stage as Ashe captivated the crowd with her melody. While she was onstage, unveiled underneath bright lights, Will Englehorn was able to get a much closer look at her.

She was young, but not younger than her mid-twenties at the earliest. But he was never an expert on judging age, so he could be wrong. She had shining ebony hair kept at a very long wavy length. He found that unusual, since most women seemed to keep their hair styled short. But it didn't look bad by any account. Yet it was in striking contrast with her skin, which was quite fair if not very pale. But then again it may have been the lights which lightened her skin. Even from the distance to the stage, Englehorn could still see she was more of a looker than most women who hung around this part of town. With a voice like that he wondered why she didn't perform for a more high class mass of people. But women were strange, with minds more changing than the sea.

When the song had finally come to an end, the audience cheered and stood up. Englehorn himself even clapped a little. She walked off stage and encountered Joe, who had left the bar to speak with her. He didn't hear what they spoke of, for their voices were drowned out by the noise of the bar. But he saw her glance towards him and he averted his gaze as discreetly as possible.

At least he knew what they were talking about.

Joe came around the bar and he turned and saw that Ashe had disappeared. He looked back to the bartender who smiled.

"You could have been _less_ obvious, Will," he smirked.

Will Englehorn couldn't help but smile a little. But the man was right.

"Don't worry, you caught her eye, too," Joe added. "She said whenever you're ready to join her."

He looked to the bartender, a hint of uncertainty in his blue eyes. Joe simply shrugged.

"If I were you, I wouldn't ask. Just go for it," he said. "Most men have tried and failed miserably. Couldn't hurt to have a drink or two with her."

Taking a moment to consider the peculiarity of this particular situation, and night in general, the Captain finally got to his feet and grabbed his hat before walking back to the booth. He came to a halt before her table, and her gaze lifted to greet his.

On her face was a small smile from which hinted that she had been expecting him. He was quiet for a moment, as was she.

Finally he sighed, "You were following me. Care to explain?"

****

Ah, yes, here is the end of the chapter. Well, they have met face to face. And before I go I would like to add that the song, _Baby, It's Cold Outside, _was originally published in 1944, with lyrics written by Frank Loesser, a famous American songwriter. He wrote it as a duet and premiered the song with his wife at a housewarming party in the Navarro home. He eventually sold the rights to MGM in 1948. I loved this song so much that I hope you don't mind I allowed it to be performed in this story eleven years before it actually existed. Also, I hope that how I wrote it seemed okay. I didn't just want to write out the song without any action, so I couldn't help myself. Hopefully it made sense :)


	3. Introductions Are Overated!

Okay, the story continues. Again, the whole Syndicate and Council origins are going to be explained, but only as the story continues. I try not to be too vague, but everything will make sense in time, I promise! Anyways, on with the story. Again, please send reviews and comments. I try to be accurate and grammar-efficient, but I know I miss things. Alas, I'm merely human. But please, tell me how you like it. Let me know if there's anything you'd like me to improve on and so forth. Please! Hope ya enjoy!

******

Chapter 3

Ashe had seated herself in the comfortable booth, dimly lit with a small hanging lamp. She ordered a _cuba libre _from the bar and had it been delivered pretty quickly. Sitting back as she traced the rim of the highball glass, she listened as the band continued in playing some more Christmas melodies. She had always found the tunes rather soothing.

A hint of movement advancing towards her caught her attention, and Ashe looked up to see Captain Will Englehorn standing before her, his hat in hand. Staring into his icy gaze, she couldn't help but keep a smile of amusement on her face.

"You were following me. Care to explain?" he asked after a moment of silence. She noted that he seemed tired, maybe even irritated.

"Have a seat," she offered politely. "You look like you've been up for nearly three weeks straight."

The offer was tempting, Will would admit. He supposed he probably looked as tired as he felt. Still, he couldn't help but hesitate.

"I'd rather not," he said. "I need to get back to my ship. It's best if I don't linger too long."

Ashe held her smile.

"Relax," she said. "This won't take long. Besides, I got places to be too. Just take a seat, have a drink. This won't take more than fifteen minutes, tops."

Waiting another minute before finally deciding, the Captain took a seat opposite of her. Joe came by, asking if they needed anything before pouring Will another shot of whiskey as Ashe lit a cigarette. Englehorn reached for his own but realized he had smoked his last one before he had entered the bar.

Once Joe left the table, Ashe noticed Will's small search. She offered him one of her own instead.

Will looked at the cigarette. It was a Kretek, the same brand as his. Accepting the cigarette and lighting it with his own match, he took into account that at least this stranger had good taste.

They sat staring at each other for one other moment of silence. The Captain, awaiting an explanation, had his own eyes fixated on hers. They were a dark hazel hue, like dark chocolate speckled with flakes of caramel and rimmed with light jade. Such strange eyes.

Finally, it was she who spoke first.

"Sorry about the whole…"_spying"_ thing," she said. "I've been told my people skills are considerably rusty."

Taking a sip of his whiskey, Will asked, "Who are you?"

"No one of importance. But for the sake of introductions, my friends call me Ashe," she replied simply.

The Captain blinked, "Ashe….what, no surname?"

She shook her head, "Don't worry about it. The pronunciation is ridiculously tedious."

He seemed to accept that, since he didn't push further.

"Now, as for the explanation," she continued. "I'm here to make a proposition."

Will eyed her suspiciously, "I get the feeling that this has something to with the ape."

Ashe nodded.

"Very perceptive," she said. "But you gotta figure, it's a twenty-five foot ape from a prehistoric island teeming with dinosaurs and cannibals. It's an interesting topic, to say the least."

Rubbing his eyes wearily, "I figured that's what this was about."

Sighing as he took another hit from his cigarette, he shrugged, "Well I'm probably the last one you should come to. It's Denham's problem now."

"Give it a day, maybe two," Ashe stated, "and he's gonna be the city's problem."

"So?" Will scoffed. "If it isn't near my boat, it's no longer my concern."

"You think that deadbeat, Denham, is going to be the only one screwed when this hits the fan?"

Englehorn didn't give a reply.

"When bad things happen," she continued, "people don't just want answers. They want to blame others, and give the rate of mass hysteria with something this gargantuan, chances are they aren't going to be on anyone involved."

Another silence drifted between them, but it was broken once more by Ashe.

"How the hell did you even get the damn map?" she asked in a confounded tone. She seemed sincerely surprised.

Englehorn returned the question with a perplexed expression.

"Precisely, how do you know about that?" he fired back.

Now it was Ashe's turn to hesitate. She took a sip from her glass.

"The same way I know that it was no accident you wound up on that island," she sighed.

Studying her carefully, Will leaned in closer.

"Who are you…really?" he asked, his eyes locked on hers.

She returned the gaze without blinking.

"The one person you can trust," she said. He didn't say anything in return, so she continued.

"That ape can't stay in the city," she said, feeling the warmth of the bar and removing her gloves and scarf. "I mean…he _could…._but considering the city probably won't fund "_Ape Crossing"_ signs on every street corner, than it's a safe bet to say that he would probably cause a few traffic jams. More than there are now, anyways."

Englehorn chuckled. She had a sarcastic streak in her tone, which he found amusing. Perhaps it was just part of her charm.

"And what do you propose to do?" he asked. But when he finished his sentence, the answer he assumed she would give popped into his mind. It took a minute to realize what she was _truly _proposing.

"_No!_" he growled before she could reply. "I'm not handling that damned thing anymore."

"You brought it here didn't you?" she smirked. "Why not simply…relocate him elsewhere?"

"_Against_ my better judgment, yes, "he replied. "I did. In light of the fact that Denham's picture was a debacle, it was the only way to ensure a paycheck for my men."

"If money's the most important factor, believe me you and you're men will be more than compensated."

Will laughed, shaking his head, "Denham's payment has more than benefitted me and the crew. Believe me when I say, there is nothing in heaven nor hell that would persuade me to do anything with that ape than put it down."

Ashe simply sighed. Well, he was a determined sailor if there ever was one.

"I figured that you would pick the "go-to-hell" answer, but I guess that works too," she said. "But you gotta understand, Englehorn. When Kong gets loose, and I emphasize the _"when"_ in that sentence rather than an "if", there will be hell to pay. And chances are, Denham won't be the only one that suffers lawsuits, fines, and possibly prison time. _You_ will be added onto that list as an accessory."

Leaning back in his chair, a grim expression appeared on Englehorn's face. He could see that she knew what she was talking about.

"Even _if _I agreed to this," he said, "Denham never would. That ape is the only thing he has. You wouldn't get him to part with it for all the money in the world."

"Probably not," Ashe agreed. "But he really has little say in it. So…are you in?"

"I'm not going anywhere near that godforsaken island," he said finally. "Not for all the money in the world."

Ashe smiled, "You're in luck. A trip to Skull Island was not on the agenda. I've found it a rather lousy vacation spot anyways. Too much rain."

From his confused expression, she had no doubt that it was better to explain from the beginning.

"Look, I was sent to you by Jamison Cunningham, "she said," an egotistical son of a…well…a guy with too much time and money on his hands. He wants to hire you to transport Kong from New York City to a preserve he created on a secluded island on the coast of Africa."

Taking a few seconds to ponder her proposal, Englehorn laughed and rose to his feet and putting his hat back on.

"Tempting offer, Miss Ashe," he said. "But I wash my hands of this madness. "

He started to walk away, but in a flash Ashe had risen from her seat and grabbed his arm. She had moved so fast and quiet that he didn't even realize she had rose so quickly.

"Will, I understand you don't want any part of this," she said, her sincerity evident in her soft voice. "And I can assure you that I relate. But I would appreciate it if you at least think about it. Give it a day, maybe two, and call me at this number when you change your mind."

She placed a folded napkin his palm, keeping her gaze on his.

"Keep an eye on the news," she said. He didn't say anything before turning and walking away. His mind was focusing so hard on leaving that he wasn't even paying attention when he bumped into an old man on his way to the bar.

"Sorry," he said, continuing his walk to the door. His eyes glanced back to see Ashe, who in turn waved goodbye. He exited the _Crow's_ _Nest _without any sign of acknowledgement, and he couldn't help but leave without carrying a few ounces of dread about the days to come.

****

Ashe watched Will Englehorn left the bar, and Ashe sat back down. She looked up to see the old man who he had bumped into walking over to her table. He was wearing a worn wool coat, a plaid scarf and a trilby hat, but she recognized him the moment he had walked into the bar.

"How did it go?" he asked, his accent belonging unmistakably to an Englishman.

"You know, you really should consider approaching people yourself," she snapped irritably. "I'm not a carrier pigeon!"

Cunningham smiled, "I had a feeling your approach would prove more successful."

Ashe rolled her eyes, "I detect a hint of sexism in that remark."

He laughed, "It's more along the lines of a compliment, but by all means take it as you wish. When will he call?"

Finishing off her cigarette, she smothered what was left of it in the ashtray.

"Well, if you're theory proves correct, tomorrow most likely," she answered, leaning back once more. Her gaze wandered off distantly for a few moments. Cunningham noticed.

"Something on your mind?" he asked curiously.

She was quiet for a moment, then looked at him.

"Why are you doing this?" Ashe asked. He cocked his head to the side, confused. "I mean, with the ape and all. Why do you care what happens to it? I mean…_that's_ hardly our biggest problem in the grand scheme of things. Truthfully it's the last thing we need to worry about."

He paused for a moment to consider the question before responding.

"Those who have the capability are given responsibility to help when necessary," he answered. "And now's a pretty good time to help."

"Still…it seems out of character…"

"People change," he said.

Ashe smirked, "Change….people never really change. Technology...religion...that stuff changes. But people…no, people stay the same."

Cunningham gave a heavy sigh, "You lost faith in humanity, Ashelia?"

Rising from her seat as she finished her drink, she smiled lightly.

"No, I don't have a problem with humanity as a whole….it's just people I don't like."

Figuring she wasn't going to get much else out of him, Ashe decided it was best to go ahead and leave. It had been a long day and a nice evening of relaxing and painting was just what she needed.

Cunningham watched her as she wrapped her scarf around her neck and put back on her gloves.

"Lovely singing by the way," he commented. "Calling it an evening?"

"Yeah, well, what can I say?" she retorted. "This has been one hell of a day."

Without saying another word, Ashe paid her tab at the counter, bidding Joe farewell and waving goodbye to Hound-dog before walking out the door into the night. The air had gotten chillier since she had entered the bar earlier. A strong breeze blew through the air, causing Ashe to shudder and wrap her coat a bit more tightly around her as she began to walk down the street on her way home. For some reason, she couldn't get that tune out of her head. Maybe singing it onstage was simply enough to get stuck over and over in her mind.

She didn't know what Cunningham was planning entirely. Why he even wanted to bother with the ape was beyond her. But she knew that sooner or later they would have to return to "Skull Island". They had business there that couldn't go unsettled. Not anymore.

"I take it the man you were sitting with was the egotistical Jamison Cunningham?" a stern voice echoed along the seemingly empty street. It nearly startled Ashe. She turned, seeing Will Englehorn standing before her, his hands in his pocket. Had he been waiting on her? What for?

"Yeah, that's the guy," she said coolly. "Don't feel bad if he didn't say 'hello'. He has worst people skills than myself. "

A slight pause came between them.

"So…" she started, breaking the silence. "Did you forget something in the bar?"

"I was almost back to my ship when I realized that you never really gave a straight answer to any of the questions," he stated. Ashe thought about it for a minute and realized..yeah…that was pretty true.

"You never told me how you knew about the map…why your employer even cares about all this…" he continued. He stopped for a moment, as if considering how to phrase the next question. "What do you know about that island?"

Ashe stood there, a little surprised at his sudden curiosity. She wasn't really sure what to say. She gave a light laugh.

"You were really halfway to your _ship_ before realizing I never directly answered any of your questions?" she asked amused.

But his expression showed he was anything but amused and was enough to sober her up. She sighed, folding her arms across her chest.

"Okay, honestly, there's not much I can tell you….because I'm not entirely in the loop," she said. "And I'm not _complaining_, because in my line of work…ignorance is rather bliss, hell it's complete _ecstasy_ when confronted when the cold hard truth."

Englehorn didn't say anything, and so she continued.

"As far as Skull Island is concerned, there's a lot more to it than meets the eye," she explained. She gave another pause, trying to find the right words. "And if you decide _not_ to take this job because you are honestly sick and tired of all the bullshit, then I respect that. And I mean that sincerely. But if you're not going to do it because you're too afraid, then I am going to do you a big favor and walk away forever. And you will never see nor hear from me. Because _this_ is bigger than that ape. Bigger than you. Bigger than me. And I won't risk involving you and your men if you can't handle what's out there….what's _really _out there."

"What the hell do you mean? You're not making any sense!" he said exasperated.

Rolling her eyes, Ashe mumbled, "Yeah, story of my life…"

Waiting a moment to collect herself from her rant, she took a deep breath.

"Look," she said finally. "Take the job. Don't take the job. It's up to you. But time is somewhat of a large factor. If you decide you agree, I will answer all…well…most of your questions without hesitation. I give you my word."

Ashe turned and started walking away, but she stopped and looked back for a moment.

"Just take my advice…the less you know, the better."

For a moment they just stood there, looking at each other unmoving. His gaze had captivated her own once again. He could tell in her eyes she was sincere in everything she had said. He didn't know why, but he trusted her. Against his better judgment.

He sighed, closing his eyes for a moment as he rubbed them tiredly. He opened them, ready to say something else but before he knew it, she was gone. He looked in every direction, but she had completely disappeared.

_How the hell does she do that?_

***

Cunningham remained in the booth, pulling out his old pipe and began smoking. He leaned back in his seat, removing his hat. In appearance, he believed he looked older than what he was. He was only fifty-six, but at times he felt eighty. His once black hair was now mostly white speckled with grey and his face was blanketed with wrinkles. Pale green eyes revealed he had seen much in his life, and done even more.

Everyone had ghosts in their closets. Some had the rotten luck to have them leave the closet and follow them wherever they went. Cunningham had a feeling he was to be one of those cursed individuals. He wouldn't deny that he had made some bad choices in his life. But it was always out of a sense of duty, or at least he told himself that.

He hoped that the decisions made were really for the better. It may have been a false hope, but it was better than no hope.

He ordered a scotch from the bar, taking a moment to consider what was to come. Ashelia was right in that Kong was the least of their concerns. Especially with the Syndicate. God, how he dreaded the coming days. He prayed they would stay buried, but monsters like them don't die easily. And if they find Skull Island, then there was little the Council or even Ashelia could do to prevent the inevitable disaster.


	4. The Inevitable Disaster and Aftermath

Chapter 4

Alright, so I hope everyone is enjoying the tale thus far. Yes, I know it is moving a little slow, but in the midst of the holidays I'm trying to find time to write, I truly am. If you have any questions or concerns with the story, by all means, PLEASE tell me. I'm hoping that the story is entertaining thus far, but without comments it's hard to tell. Anyways, please enjoy the story!

*****

Will Englehorn stood in the bridge of the _S.S. Venture_, his eyes scanning the newspaper articles. Maybe Ashe and that old man were just playing him for a fool. Maybe this was some sort of scam or con. But what could they want out of it? There had been nothing in the news of an escaped 25-foot-ape so maybe they were simply over-reacting. Then again, it had only been one day.

But what the hell did they even have to do with the island or the ape? It was never explained to him, and he wasn't entirely sure he wanted to know. Maybe they were just crazed environmentalists concerned with the animal's welfare. It's farfetched but at least it's real, not dark and mysterious.

"Captain," he heard Hayes call from the doorway.

"Yes?" he answered, his eyes still looking through the papers. His mind wandered to the folded up napkin in his pocket which held Ashe's number. He was still debating their offer.

"Jimmy and I were gonna go into the city and stay with my sister and her family for a few days. She just moved here from Philadelphia, and she wants us over for the holidays," he said.

"And?" Englehorn said, looking up. Ben should have known he wouldn't care about that. What else did he want?

"Well," he started, but he was hesitating, maybe a little strained. "She told me I could bring friends. Lumpy and Choy were going to come Christmas Eve for dinner. You're welcome to join if you're not too busy."

He considered the suggestion, a little surprised that he was invited. But then again, Ben was one of the few men who he considered a brother.

"Thanks," he answered after a long silence. "But I've some things I have to take care of first…"

True, that answer was a load of bull. But what could he say? He wasn't one for the holidays. He never really had been. By the look of Ben's face, it was the answer he was expecting. Then again, it couldn't hurt to offer. With a resigned face, the First Mate left the Captain alone to read the paper.

***

Night had fallen on the city once more. Ashe stood outside the Alhambra Theater, about maybe a block away, watching as the flood of high-class socialites and elitists swarmed the surrounding streets like bees in a hive. She wasn't dressed up like the other women who were covered in silk, furs, and way too much makeup. Then again, she wasn't exactly here to party.

Times Square was a mess, crowds of people dressed in formal attire preparing to see what some have dubbed "_The Show of the Century"_. Signs were lit up in almost every corner of the city. She stared at the marquee above the theater.

_**Kong: The Eighth Wonder of the World**_

Yeah, he was a wonder alright. But he's more than these people are capable of handling. If Cunningham was right…and he usually and most irritably was, then tonight's premiere would undoubtedly be the finale as well.

Out of the corner of her eye, Ashe saw Cunningham step out of a taxi and start walking towards her.

"Everything in order?" she asked.

"Naturally," he responded, his hands in his pockets. "Scouts are positioned in and around perimeter. Dragoons are standing by. Everything is prepared."

Ashe couldn't hide the smile.

"You sound so sure of yourself," she noted aloud. "What if the ape doesn't fly the coop…technically speaking? I mean, this whole scene you have played out in your mind…what if it doesn't happen?"

Cunningham seemed to consider the notion for a moment, "Better to be over-prepared than caught unawares."

A mask of irritation expressed a hint of anxiety, and the Englishmen had caught sight of it without much trouble.

"You seem tense, fidgety. What's on your mind?" he asked casually.

Replying with a simple glare, Ashe sighed, "It's been five years since I've been on one of your maniacal assignments. I'm far from thrilled to say the least."

"Don't worry my dear," he said, pulling out his pipe. "I assure you, after this, the Order has agreed not to call on you any longer."

_Yeah, _she thought. _I've heard that before. _

He took a hit from his pipe, scanning the crowd intensely before smiling, "Ah, there." He pointed in the crowd. "I suggest you keep an eye on that young man, talk with him if you must."

She followed his gaze, her eyes settling on the form of a tall, slim figure standing solemnly in the midst of the crowd across from the theatre, not but a few yards away from their own position.

"Preston Atwood," Ashe identified. He was identical to his photograph in his file. "Twenty-four. Former law student and Denham's personal assistant. "

"I see you've read at least some of the files," he smiled. "Not bad considering I presented them to you this afternoon."

"Eh, I skimmed them. I try to avoid reading people's personal lives," she admitted. She shot him a short glare. "But then, the term 'personal boundary' isn't exactly in your vocabulary, is it?"

Cunningham did not give a reply, mostly because he could not bring himself to physically acknowledging the fact that the girl had a point. But it wasn't his call. Files were made for 'peoples of interest' for not only the sake of the Order, but due the importance of its duties. He recalled his previous attempts to educate Ashelia on the purpose of keeping records on individuals involved with the affairs of the Order. But it was like talking to a brick wall. He explained to her and countless others who needed a lesson or two on procedure that the Council, an elite few which heads the entire Order, is very strict when it comes to the subject of the Archives.

The Archives, was divided into various facilities throughout the world containing every documentation of past missions and expeditions (both failed and successful). The simplest answer to why commit to such a tedious answer was that history can be the only true navigational source in troubled times. History is the only thing which can teach who we are and why we are the way we are.

"So why is Preston of interest?" she asked finally, lighting a cigarette coolly.

"Because he is the first step of the plan," he explained. "You'll need to gain the trust of the survivors, and this is an opportune moment. Once you go inside-"

"_Why_ would I want to go in?" Ashe opposed. "The whole capture-the-ape-thing was _your_ plan. _You _go in! It's not my job!"

The Englishman chuckled, "You don't even _know_ what you're job is just yet, Ashelia."

She didn't respond instantly with a witty come-back or sarcastic remark as usual. Mostly because she hadn't really thought of the fact that he was right. But then, what was the point? In all her years of working under Cunningham, he had never given her a single detailed outline of her assignments. He usually just filled in little by little.

Though there was a good explanation for that. The future was never pre-determined. It never has been. Things change and it never fails that plans, when made too far in advance, have an uncanny ability to take an abrupt turn. So the Order was very careful, and planned each move they made like a professional chess master for the sake of a contingency.

And so that brings Ashe back to what her mission might entail. All she was briefed with was the fact that that island was publicly discovered and the Syndicate was back in the game. So far, all her that her orders required that she assist in gathering together the crew of the _Venture_ and relocating the ape to Cunningham's little..well..big preserve and await further instructions. Sure, sounded simple. Then again the most complex of situations usually seem simple at first.

"When does this whole show start anyways?" she asked, changing the subject.

"In about ten minutes," Cunningham said.

"I could just sneak in you know," she said. "I've had plenty of experience."

"Indeed you _have_," the old man smirked. "But this is not one of your usual pursuits. In time, you'll come to understand why."

Ashe had a feeling it was much better just to leave it at that and she sighed in frustration.

"What's your plan exactly? Are we just gonna _wait _for the ape to escape or can we not just simply prevent the inevitable hysteria he'll cause once he is loose?"

"Denham won't voluntarily give him up," he argued. "He'll need to entire city of fearful people nipping at his heels before he loosens his grip. The military has already issued a warning to him stating that the animal will be removed from his ownership if anything goes awry. Well, _when_, I should say, things go awry."

He had a point, she wouldn't lie. When Kong got loose, he'll be choked with lawsuits. Financially and publically he would be ruined. But that was the plan, to leave him nowhere to turn to. That way, the Order could step in, offer him an escape route in return for the ape.

_Sure_. They _could _seize Kong without the director's consent. They had the funds and power to do so. But he was a public icon now. If he was mysteriously to disappear, too many questions would be asked. And the Order does _not_ risk questions. Therefore, there was no other option than to appear under the guise of private investors seeking to add to their own preserve. It was a decent enough plan.

Ashe's eyes turned to Preston once more. He stared up at the marquee with such a forlorn gaze; she couldn't help but sense a hint of dread from him.

"Why do you think he came?" she asked Cunningham. "He no longer works for Denham. What would be the point?"

The Englishman shot her a quick glance.

"There _are _those who are willing to face their own pasts," he answered shortly. "Perhaps you should take some notes."

Ashe simply glared coldly at him without responding. What could she say? It wasn't like he was wrong…

"It's almost time," he said looking at his watch before turning to her. "Go on. Enjoy the show. You know what you're to do?"

As if they hadn't went over her primary objective for this evening nearly half a million times.

"Talk to Preston. Talk to Denham," she recited, counting them off her fingers. "Watch Kong. Make sure that no one is killed, _me in particular._"

With the lack of a reply, she assumed that he was content with her correlation. More or less, anyways. After a moment, he gave a short nod, "Good luck."

She shifted her gaze to the theatre, the intensity of her gaze reflecting her gut feeling which was compelling her to avoid this all too familiar path. For a split second, she turned her head and found that the old man had disappeared. Ashe rolled her eyes in annoyance before she began to walk towards Denham's former assistant.

***

She felt a bit out of place, but that was a sensation she was all too familiar with. She wore a pair of black slacks with a white blouse and a dark wool petticoat. She was nowhere as dolled up as the rest of the crowd, but she found it a bit unconventional to wear a ball gown in this kind of weather. It was snowing even more lightly than last night now. But the air had a strange, cold chill in it which gnawed at her bones. But it did not deter her in the least as she continued on her way across the street.

Preston Atwood stood solemnly before the entrance of the theatre. He was trying to force himself to move onward and enter, yet he felt far more compelled to just walk away. However, he knew that if he did not face the demons haunting his mind, he would never be free. Every night his dreams were plagued with nightmares from Skull Island. Every night he relived that horrid journey again and again, watching his friends die one by one. He lightly touched the scar on his cheek which was nowhere near fading.

He was jolted out of his thoughts by the presence of a stranger standing beside him, staring straight at him. He did not recognize the woman before him, but by the patient and composed smile on her face it appeared she was no looking at him by mistake.

"Exciting evening, eh?" she said out of the blue.

He blinked, a little confused by her approach.

"P-pardon me?" he replied finally.

"You're Preston, right?" she continued. "You worked for Denham right?"

"Yeah…I-I did, but...how did you…who are you?" he asked, straightening his thin-rimmed glasses.

"My name is Ashe," she introduced herself.

"Oh, well...nice to meet you," he said after a moment of silence. "So, you're here to see the show."

She gave a light shrug, her smile fading, "More or less. If I didn't know better, I'd say you were too. Only…you don't look too sure about it yourself."

Preston tried a small attempt of a modest smile, uncertainty written all over his face.

"I suppose," he sighed.

"Believe me," Ashe said. "I know the feeling. Anyways, you wouldn't happen to know where Denham is at the moment, would you? I need to have a little chat with him. Preferably before the start of the show."

Preston looked at her suspiciously.

"What about?" he asked. But he had a feeling he knew what.

"Nothing too big," she answered innocently. "I'm just a messenger, if you will. I came here on behalf of someone else."

"It's about Kong, right?" he lamented. All she replied with was a slight nod in agreement. "He won't sell it, you know."

Ashe nodded, "Yeah, that's not hard to conceive. But it won't really be his call to make."

"What do you mean?" Preston's eyes narrowed. She smiled softly.

"Long story. You'll see," she concluded. "Don't suppose you could point out where he is?"

"I don't exactly work for him anymore, but…" he said, taking a swift look at his watch," he'll probably be on stage in a few minutes."

Ashe nodded her head, "Hmm…alright. Well, I guess it's time go on in. I'll see you soon."

Before he could reply, she had turned and walked into the crowd of people flooding into the doors. Within seconds he lost all sight of her. Preston was left in the masses confused by her words. What was she after?

Ashe had entered the main lobby, keeping her eyes peeled for any trouble hidden within the bustling flocks of the high-society. Anxious was a word that could hardly describe her particular feeling at the moment. She couldn't shake this tense feeling, like a deep blow to her gut, which told her that this was the beginning of a long hard night.

Ashe decided to walk up the stairs and watch the scene play out from the balcony. Once she had entered the dimly lit theatre, she could see no available seats and so instead she stood in the back, her eyes locked intensely on the stage. Enormous red curtains draped the stage securely. She could see a small orchestra seated just beneath the stage's front, its members preparing.

She doubted she would get the chance to speak with Denham beforehand, but it mattered little in her opinion. There were no words to deter a man like him, so it would be best if she relied on the eminent debacle to convince him of anything. Within moments of her arrival, all light within the theatre had diminished, a single spot light shining upon a lone figure on the stage.

Carl Denham.

He was short, with a strong yet hefty build. His hair was gelled back and he had donned on a very expensive silk tuxedo for the occasion.

"Thank you! Thank you!" he greeted the audience who in turn cheered horrendously loud. Denham seemed to be relishing in the limelight. "Ladies and Gentlemen, I am here to tell you a very strange story. A story so strange, it is beyond belief!"

_Boy, he has NO idea…_

"But ladies and gentlemen, seeing is believing! And what you're about to see is living proof of our adventure in which seventeen of our own party suffered horrible deaths! They're lives lost in the pursuit of a savage beast, a monstrous aberration of nature!"

_He's really laying in on thick_, Ashe thought to herself in amusement. She leaned against one of the columns, folding her arms across her chest.

"But even the maddest brute can be tames," Denham continued. "Yes, ladies and gentlemen, as you will see, the beast was no match for the charms of a girl…a girl from New York, who melted his heart, bringing to mind that old Arabian. 'And, lo, the Beast looked upon the face of Beauty, and Beauty stayed his hand…and from that day forward, he was as one dead….'.

The crowd was captivated, the eyes of every single person fixated on the stage in wonder. Denham raised his hand, as a magician preparing to perform would do. But in a way, Ashe supposed he was. He was revealing to the world that there were still mysterious wonders to behold. If only he knew better.

"And now I'm going to show you the greatest thing your eyes have ever beheld. He was a king in the world he knew but he comes to you now…a captive!" he announced, lifting his arms. "Ladies and gentlemen, I give you _Kong, the Eighth Wonder of the World."_

At once, the music began playing, raising the excitement within the 's eyes scanned the balcony, catching a hint of movement from the doorway. She turned and looked upon the form of Jack Driscoll, the playwright who had also ventured to Skull Island. His gaze was on the stage, but she had a feeling he wasn't here for Kong. Suddenly, the sound of gasps and screams filled the room, causing her to look back to the stage.

The curtains had rose, revealing the figure of the infamous twenty-five foot ape. Well, he was impressive to behold, but Ashe had seen some pretty 'interesting' things in her life…this wouldn't top the list.

However, she couldn't help to notice how pathetic the once majestic creature now seemed, slumped on the stage. Shackled to the stage like a prisoner, Kong seemed unresponsive, almost in a haze as if he were oblivious to his surroundings. His head lolled lazily, and Ashe had a feeling he had been drugged before his debut.

Carl Denham, on the other hand, seemed simply ecstatic. His face could not contain the euphoria he gained from the crowd's reaction.

"Don't be alarmed, ladies and gentlemen," he announced. "It is perfectly safe. These chains are made of chrome steel."

_Yeah…that'll hold him alright_, Ashe thought sarcastically.

The audience took a moment to regain composure from the sight of the beast before erupting in enormous applause. Denham himself reached out his hand, placing it on Kong's massive arm, as if to demonstrate his control of the situation.

"Observe, if you will, I am touching the beast," he declared. "I am actually laying my hand on the twenty-five foot gorilla."

Kong's foot gave a light twitch, causing Denham to jump back in fright. The audience laughed at the amusing scene, but Ashe simply seemed irritated. This was ridiculous beyond words. The director then signaled the stagehands in the wings to crank the winch connected to Kong's chains causing him to be drawn up to his full height.

Another collective gasp erupted from the spectators.

"And now we have in the auditorium a surprise guest," Denham announced. "The real life hero of this story. The man who hunted down the mighty Kong! The man who risked all to win the freedom of a helpless female…A big hand for Mister Bruce Baxter!"

Ashe looked on in utter disbelief as the actor strode on stage in one of the most comical if not completely preposterous outfits. She had never really been a moviegoer. Sure, some flicks were decent. Charlie Chaplin was amusing. But it was nothing compared to watching it live on theatre. She always found that most of the films were cheesy and too unrealistic.

By the screams and cheering from the crowd of people, Ashe felt perhaps it may have been just her that felt that way. They seemed to relish it. And Baxter was more than willing to acknowledge their applause with a beaming proud smile as she shook Denham's hand, giving him a pat on the back as if they were old pals.

Within seconds, a pounding drumbeat rang out. Denham raised his hand to quiet the audience.

"Ladies and gentlemen, imagine if you will an uncharted island. A forgotten fragment from another time. And clinging to life in this savage place, imagine a people untutored in the ways of the civilized world. A people who have dwelt all their lives in the shadow of fear. In the shadow of….Kong!"

Dancing onstage to the sound of the drum was a line of people dressed in getups even more bizarre than Baxter's. They appeared to have jumped out from some elaborate safari film straight from the backlot. Ashe supposed they were to represent Skull Island's natives. They surrounded Kong, continuing to dance synchronized to the drumbeats as the beast simply looked on in the distance.

"He was right," she heard Preston's voice nearby, but he was speaking Jack who had looked back at him.

"About there still being some mystery left in the world," he continued sadly. His eyes were fixated on Carl. "And we can all have a piece of it. For the price of an admission ticket."

"That's the thing you come to learn about Carl," Driscoll said solemnly. "His unfailing ability to destroy the things he loves.

Ashe's attention turned back to the stage where Denham once again caught the attention of all the theatergoers.

"Please remain calm, ladies and gentlemen, for we have now come to the exciting climax of this savage ritual!" he exclaimed. "The sacrifice of a beautiful young girl!"

Applause and shouts of excitement rumbled throughout the auditorium, but she couldn't help but envy the people for their ignorance. Ashe herself knew what to expect in reality, but these people were just getting the friendly, edited version.

Every light within the theater dimmed as the drumbeat increased rapidly, and the 'natives' all fell to their knees in a worship of ecstasy before Kong. A platform beneath the stage had begun to rise, and the audience grew quiet.

"Behold her terror as she is offered up to the mighty Kong! A big hand folks for the bravest girl I ever met!" Denham said. "Miss Ann Darrow!"

Everyone, including Ashe, stared with fierce intensity as the platform continued to rise. Slowly, the small figure of a woman appeared on the stage before the ape, her head lowered with her blond hair in her face. She was clothed in a silk white gown and had her hands bound to a wooden alter with her back facing the audience.

For a moment, just a moment, Kong seemed to come to life. A small flicker of light awoke in his eyes, like a small ember of hope. The young woman, who Ashe assumed was Ann Darrow, stared back up and the ape gave a small grunt mingled with confusion and fury. He wasn't human, of course…but there was something in the way that ape could express his emotions that Ashe couldn't help but to notice. One thing being that he was not exactly a happy camper. It took a moment but then she understood why. The woman below was not Ann Darrow.

Kong's anger seemed to mount with each passing second as he let out a roar. The woman below, whoever she was, screamed in the most absurdly unconvincing tone. But that only seemed to piss the ape off even more, and Ashe couldn't help but empathize with him on that notion.

Photographers then rushed the stage, the lights of their cameras flashing unfailingly like a strobe light. Kong continued to roar in agitation while Denham signaled for Baxter to join him. One of the photographers called out.

"Come on, Denham! How about one with you and the big monkey?"

Ashe didn't pay too much attention to what was being said between Denham and the reporters. Her eyes were locked on Kong, keeping in mind his rage was continuing to build as he began to struggle against his steel bindings. He let out another deep howl, which thundered through the auditorium with the sound intensity of a bomb. She couldn't help but feel the very ground quake from his fury.

"Let him roar!" Denham smiled, seemingly unaffected by the mounting tension. "It makes a swell picture!"

Kong continued to struggle against the chains and Ashe couldn't help but feel this situation was about to take a dramatic turn. Much similar to that of a volcano, just seconds before the eruption.

"We have to get these people out of here," Ashe heard Driscoll say.

_Give Kong about thirty more seconds,_ she thought to herself. _He'll have it cleared for you._

She watched with a blank expression as the ape continued to tug at the chains. Amidst the roars and shouts of reporters, an earsplitting scream pierced the air. Well, at least the actress was more convincing, considering she wasn't really acting out terror anymore. Finally, Kong broke one of the manacles, allowing one of his hands to be free.

But for some strange reason, the audience continued to applaud, thinking this was still all part of the show. Little by little, Ashe watched as Jack and Preston continue to try and get people out of the theater. Most remained in their seats, but there were a few who began to become a little startled, thinking that something _actually _was wrong.

Turning to Denham, Ashe found it remarkable that unlike other men, he looked upon Kong not with fear or remorse. He stared at the creature in awe, like a young child would. With one of his shackles broken, it didn't take long for the ape to tear from the other. The press began to slowly back away, snapping pictures as they did so. Kong tried to shield his eyes from the flashes, letting out another roar in anger.

Within moments the people began to rise from their seats, finally coming to their senses and seeing that this was no longer a part of the show. Fearing for their lives, crowds rushes from their seats to the doors in panic. Now free from his bondage, Kong placed his sights on the actress still trapped to the alter and shrieking uncontrollably. Ashe could do little but watch as he snatched her up, staring at her in confusion before throwing her aside like a rag doll.

Despite the flux of panic-stricken pedestrians, Ashe remained still, continuing to lean against the column. She saw the ape look up at the balcony, but noticed how his eyes were locked on Jack, who returned the gaze with intense fear. Instantly, the ape leaped from the stage, using the boxes overseeing the theater to climb to the balcony with fluid and dexterous movement with seemingly effortless capability.

Driscoll had already began his retreat outside, but Kong was hard on his heels. The beast charged forward in pursuit and nearly trampled Ashe had she not sidestepped quickly. She watched as he demolished the walls in a single lunge.

Her face still lacking much expression, she took a look at the watch on her wrist.

"Hmm," she mused aloud. "That didn't take long."

Her attention turned back to Carl Denham, who stood on the stage in utter shock. Ashe sighed, sticking her hands in the pocket of her coat as she made her way down the stairs. It was now time to pay Denham a visit.

***

Carl Denham sat disheveled on what remained of the stage, which was now cleared except for the debris. His solemn gaze stared off distantly while people rushed the scene to help those injured. The press had already left with the intent of following Kong and his path of destruction. At first, Ashe felt disdain for a man whom she felt was willing to destroy what little magic remained in the world for the sake of his profits. But now, looking at him with that pathetic, defeated countenance upon his face, she could feel little more than pity.

"Been a rough night?" she said aloud from the end of the stage. Denham did not so much as acknowledge her words, just kept staring forward.

"Hey," she chuckled. "At least this gives the city an excuse to redecorate. Personally I think new seats wouldn't be a bad idea."

Again she was met with silence. So much for her attempt at humor.

"It's over," Denham professed in sorrow. "I'm finished. He'll be dead before dawn."

"Not necessarily," she chimed in. He looked up at her, his eyes heavy with sadness and confusion.

"What makes you so sure?" he asked.

"Because I have the unfortunate blessing of being in the loop," she answered. "Kong will live. I know people who will make that happen. I came here to speak with you."

Carl sighed, looking back at the destroyed theatre, "About what?"

"I was sent here to inform you that once Kong is captured, he will be removed from your possession," she said quietly. He looked to her in disbelief and started to open his mouth in protest but Ashe raised her hand to silence him.

"I wouldn't bother telling me otherwise," she stated. "Once he is captured, a lot of fingers will be pointed at you for all the trouble. You'll be charged with lawsuits through which you will undoubtedly become bankrupt if not imprisoned. In exchange for legal pardons and your financial debts to be paid, you will hand over Kong to a man named Jamison Cunningham."

She handed him a small piece of paper scribbled with Cunningham's number. She'd let him handle the director. She heard movement behind her and turned to see the Mayor, Chief of Police, and various other unpleasant fellows charging straight for Denham. She turned back to the director and smiled.

"If you have any questions, call that number," she advised, before turning away and walking out of the theatre.

***

Ashe had returned to her little apartment above the bakery after her visit to the theater. She was in no mood to watch Kong destroy half of the city. Besides, the Order had everything under control. She was sitting in the living room, listening to the radio while standing before her easel, paintbrush in hand. She was clothed in a much more comfortable nightgown with a soft silk robe tied around her waist. Her black hair hung in a loose ponytail, paint smudges on her hands, arms, and face. It was nearly seven in the morning, but she wasn't even that tired.

She was painting the portrait of a wolf, a silvery white wolf. It was standing in the snow near a lighthouse. She was lost in thought, painting in peace when she was jolted out of the wanderings of her mind with a ring on the telephone.

"Hello?" she said in the phone, continuing to paint.

"We have him," she heard Cunningham's voice on the other end. "No thanks to you."

Ashe smirked, "What did you want me to do? Get a banana and cardboard box and hope he falls for it?"

From the lack of a reply, she surmised that he was less the amused.

"How did the hunt go?" she asked finally.

"Fairly well," he admitted. "The death toll wasn't as high as it was feared to be. He was easier to capture while he protected Miss Darrow."

"Hold it," Ashe stopped him. "The actress? She was with him?"

"Indeed," he answered. "She found him in the city during his rampage. We cornered them atop the Empire State Building."

"Oh really?" she said. "And how did you manage to coax him down?"

"_Persuasion_," he replied. "Once he was in a safe distance from the girl, we hurled at least five nets on him weighted down with a few tons. During the struggle we were able to shoot enough sedatives in him to damn nearly kill him. He was bound too tightly to the roof to fall off luckily, otherwise the landing would have crushed him."

Ashe couldn't help but to find that tale a bit far-fetched.

"Killing him would have been easier," she noted. "And less complicated."

"It wasn't easy, of course," Cunningham admitted. "But it was right. As soon as possible, you'll need to get in touch with Englehorn. Arrange a time to departure."

Without so much as a goodbye, he hung up. Ashe sighed, setting down the telephone as she leaned back against the counter for a moment. Taking a break from her art, she thought back over the evening. She looked outside her window, seeing the rays of light peek through the frost-covered glass.

A knock at the door downstairs got her attention. It was downstairs, so it was a little faint. Maybe she was hearing things. She sighed, putting down her brush and palette while she made her way down the stairs.

Looking through the glass doors of the bakery, Ashe was surprised to see Englehorn staring back at her.

She took a step forward, unlocking the door and opening it.

"How did you know where I lived?" she asked curiously.

"Joe told me," he admitted, and by the tone of his voice and the look of his face, Ashe could see he had not slept a wink.

"My phone works," she pointed out.

"I know…" he admitted, "But some things are better spoken of in person."

A small draft from outside blew through the door, sending a chill down Ashe's spine. She wrapped her robe around her tightly as she opened the door for Englehorn.

"Alright," she said. "Come in."

He took a moment before accepting the offer. She closed the door behind her before walking to the back counter and fixing some coffee.

"Want some?" she offered. He waited a second before realizing what she said and nodded in agreement.

Silence fell between them as she brewed the coffee, occasionally glancing back at him with interest. Why had he come all the way out here? The phone works just fine. Strangely enough, she realized she didn't feel as annoyed by the intrusion as she would have with anyone else. Peculiar.

"So…" she said finally, feeling the silence lasted too long. She poured them each a mug of coffee before sitting beside him at the counter.

"What now?" he asked, taking off his hat and setting it down on the counter.

"I guess…that's up to you," she replied quietly.

He nodded, letting out a sigh that told Ashe he was expecting that answer.

"You knew this would happen. All along," he contemplated aloud.

"Technically my boss did," she admitted, taking a sip of her coffee. "But it was bound to happen sooner or later."

He didn't say anything for a moment, so Ashe continued.

"I was wondering something…" she began. He looked to her. "Why did you agree to it? You must have heard the stories of that place. What would compel you to go?"

Englehorn seemed to consider the question before choosing an answer.

"Honestly, I never really believed it existed," he answered. "The original destination was Singapore. He didn't notify me of a change in course until after we left port."

"You're the captain, correct?" she pointed out. "You could have refused."

Englehorn took did not reply, simply drinking his coffee. Ashe studied him for a moment before drawing a rational conclusion.

"_But_ he offered you more money," she concluded. A small frown grew on the Captain's face.

"Yes," he said simply. She could see in his eyes an ounce of regret at the accusation.

Ashe leaned forward on the counter, her hands cupping the steaming mug as she mused with a soft, yet sad smile.

"_Money: There's nothing in the world so demoralizing as money,_" she sighed. Englehorn gave her an inquisitive glance and she chuckled. "Sophocles. From _Antigone_. Written so long ago…but still so very true even to this day."

"You know, I never really thought we would find it," he said finally. "I figured after a week or so, he'd just give up. Then, the arrest warrant came through and I decided to divert to Rangoon. That's when…when we found it."

For a moment, she pondered his words until she spoke, "Yeah…it's funny, really. I never really gave anyone credit at finding it. At least, not intentionally."

Another silence fell between them, each listening to the still of the empty café versus the waking city life outside. At last, she gave a small sigh and looked at him.

"You shouldn't beat yourself up, you know," Ashe insisted quietly.

"About what exactly?" he wondered aloud in a dejected tone. "Looking back, it's a pretty long list."

Ashe smiled softly, "Mistakes are human. You sweat the small stuff too much and you fail to see the greater scheme of things."

"Meaning what?" he contested.

"Meaning that no matter who we are, we're going to do stupid stuff," she answered. "It may not sound stupid at the time, but if it did than it's less likely we would have done it. Regardless, we do these stupid things."

"If this is a way of trying to make me feel better…" he started.

"It's not," she cut him off. "It's just a way to help you to get over it. I'm not saying you should disregard regret altogether. That's usually the only motivation people have in not repeating mistakes. All I'm saying is…just accept it. Yeah, you screwed up. You brought a temperamental ape to a city that's not exactly renowned for its mannerisms. "

She could see by his expression that her motivational talks needed a little perfecting, but it's not like she had a lot of practice.

"Look," Ashe sighed, "someone told me once that when we hit rock bottom…the only place we can go is up."

"Who told you that?" he asked.

Ashe thought for a second, and then shrugged, "Don't remember."

Finishing his mug of coffee, Englehorn was quiet once more before he gave a heavy sigh as if defeated.

"When does your employer want to leave?" he questioned.

Ashe stood up, taking both of their empty mugs to a sink behind the counter.

"It's up to you," she admitted. "Probably after the holidays, or at least in enough time to settle out paperwork."

The answer seemed sufficient to him, for he didn't seem to object. Ashe leaned against the counter, her arms folded across her chest with her eyes downcast. She looked up for a moment and caught Englehorn's eyes studying her. Not her face, but her hands. He looked up and caught her staring straight at him. He turned away, in what Ashe thought for a moment was embarrassment.

"What were you looking at?" she asked him. There wasn't a hint of anger or discomfort in her voice.

"You're a painter," he indicated, indicating her hands. She looked down and smiled. True, her hands were covered with dried paint.

"You were up all night," he also noted. Ashe studied him curiously. He was observant, more so than most of the people she had come across in the past. She nodded.

"Yeah," she agreed. "Couldn't sleep. What's your excuse?"

They heard sirens outside in the streets a few blocks away, probably on route to repair the damages of last night's fiasco. Well, when he didn't answer she chose not to push it. It wasn't hard to guess anyways.

"What do you need before you're ready for departure?" she asked, changing the subject.

Englehorn ran his hand through his hair wearily as he considered, "I need repairs to the ship. More men. Enough money to convince those who survived to return."

Ashe shook her head, "You're men are loyal. They trust you enough so they'll return. As for the repairs, I'll have my employer send some workers this morning to the docks to get started. Everything will be fixed in three days. As for the money, you'll be reimbursed fully for your services."

It wasn't so much what she said as how she said it that made Englehorn narrow his eyes suspiciously, "Just like that?"

"Just like that," she echoed in agreement.

"What's the catch?"

"You have to carry an oversized ape," Ashe answered, taking a seat on the back counter.

He chuckled, "There's always more to it than that."

"Usually, yes," she returned the smile, blowing some loose bangs out of her face. "But I give you my word, once we arrive in Africa, you and your men are free to leave. _With_ your money of course."

Englehorn frowned, putting his hat back on as he stood up.

"I'm not doing this for the money," he confessed.

Shooting him a sideways glance, Ashe cocked her head to the side with a small smirk on her face, "Oh really? I find that hard to believe."

"That's understandable," he sighed. He walked towards the door and started to turn the handle. Stopping, he turned. "So, next Sunday? That gives us a full week. We set sail at nine that morning. Is that agreeable?"

She considered the day before ultimately shrugging, "Yeah, that's fine. Cunningham will give you a call shortly for the arrangements about your ship."

Englehorn nodded before opening the door and leaving without saying a word. Ashe watched him walk around the corner out of sight, but she remained still on the counter. She pulled the ponytail-holder out and ran her fingers through her hair in exhaustion. She wasn't sure why, but she felt vulnerable near Englehorn. Like he could see straight through her. But who knows? Maybe it was just her imagination.


	5. From Journey's Beginnings

Author's Note: My apologies for the lack of updates. It's our first week back in school and I am absolutely swamped with the course load this semester. Please enjoy that which I have been able to complete thus far. Thanks again for everyone who is reading this story! It means a lot to me. If you see any grammatical and/or storyline errors, by all means please point them out to me :) I'm only human, so unfortunately I make a lot of mistakes. I try to edit the best I can, but it's not necessarily my greatest gift. Anyways, please continue! Thanks for all the support :)

*****

It was early Sunday morning, following the previous week, and departure wasn't for another thirty minutes or so. Ashe had arrived at a timely fashion, carrying with her two bags containing her luggage. What could she say? She knew it was better to pack light on trips like these. The docks were fairly busy this morning, mostly around the _S.S. Venture_. Luckily, there was no press.

"I wasn't aware that you were to be joining us," she heard from behind her. Ashe turned to look upon Captain Will Englehorn standing before her. By his expression, her first conclusion would be he was anxious.

"You'd rather I didn't?" she mused innocently. Part of her wished the same thing. Englehorn didn't reply.

"Don't worry," she said, patting him on the shoulder as she walked by. "I won't get in your way."

Her comforting words didn't have much effect on the Captain's general outlook on the voyage. But Ashe kept a soft smile on her face as she proceeded to the ramp. She was almost on the ship before she heard some commotion by the warehouses. She turned and saw two taxis drive up.

"I took the liberty in inviting a few more passengers," she heard Cunningham say behind her. She looked over her shoulder to see him standing by the railing, his pipe in hand. Her eyes narrowed.

"What are you doing here?" she asked. "I thought you were flying in so you could prepare the reserve for Kong?"

"The plane does not depart for another three hours," he explained. "I thought it best to see you off."

"_Right…"_she muttered under her breath. "So what did you tell Englehorn over the phone? Just in case, I'd like to have my part in the story straight as well if he asks."

"Well," Cunningham said. "As with any other situation, I explained that I represented a corporation whose focus is technological research."

"Nice cover," Ashe scoffed. "Though that really doesn't cover _why_ we're involved."

"I added that the company has various divisions, including one focused on the protection of endangered wildlife, which is why Kong's welfare is such a great interest to us."

Ashe considered his little lie for a moment. Cunningham had his usual smug smile on his face.

"It's a sound alibi," he said in his own defense. In truth, the Order has always used such fronts throughout the past. Now, she'd admit, the whole 'technological research' wasn't entirely a load of bull. There was some research going on, but it wasn't the primary focus by any means.

"Same story as always. It might seem more believable if it sound as if you made it up off the top of your head," she arched her brow, regarding him coolly. "How long did it actually take the Order to come up with that?"

He gave a sour frown, putting his arms in his pocket. He thought it best to ignore her little quip. Clearing his throat, he added, "In case you're asked, you're technical position in the company is a 'domestic liaison'."

The sound of the job title itself forced a small laugh from Ashe. It was almost as ridiculous as the Order's little lie. But in truth, she was a sort of liaison, a go-between person. It wasn't _all _she did, but indeed she did act the role in various occasions.

"Is the name of the _'corporation' _still the same?" she asked.

"Marshall Industries," he answered. "It hasn't changed since you left."

"_Marshall Industries", _she repeated with a hint of distain. Ashe rolled her eyes, leaning against the rail. Some things never change.

"You haven't been gone all that long, Ashelia," Cunningham smiled.

"Not long enough, obviously," she stated with a heavy sigh.

Her attention turned back to the cars. Out of the first car came two figures, a man and woman. Ashe recognized them both immediately as Ann Darrow and Jack Driscoll, both packed with their own luggage. From the second car rose Preston Atwood, Carl Denham, _and _Bruce Baxter, also with their luggage in tow. Yeah…this was a surprise to say the least, especially to see the actor of all people.

She shot a glare back to Cunningham, "What do you think this is? A _field trip?_ Why the hell are they all coming?"

He could see the confusion in her bemused expression, and he raised his hands in defense, "Well, Miss Darrow requested she journey with Kong, see he's taken care of and all. She made a rather convincing argument."

"_Meaning_ you're just a sucker for those big blue eyes," she added dryly.

Cunningham cleared his throat once more, and then continued, "Mr. Driscoll wished to accompany Miss Darrow, and I saw no reason to object. I had a talk with Denham and his former assistant, and they both requested to accompany you."

"_Why_ exactly?" she shot back.

"Who knows? Closure, perhaps," he suggested with a light shrug, before looking at her with a sideways glance. "There _are_ people in the world who don't run from their troubles. You might learn a thing or two from them."

Ashe chose not to reply at his snide remark, instead allowing her anger to simmer down before she sighed in annoyance and continued walking up the ramp. She rounded the corner, her mind still stuck on that pesky Englishman's words of wisdom. He always had a way of getting on her nerves. She wasn't sure why, but it was just a skill that he had perfected over the years.

Ashe was still fuming a little on the inside, her mind wandering so much that she was completely oblivious to where she was going. She passed by various crates and ropes strode across the deck and next thing she knew, she rounded another corner and collided head first with a guy whose arms had been loaded with crates. The force of the impact was strong enough to knock them both back, yet Ashe regained her footing. The guy she ran into was not so lucky, as he tripped backwards with the crates he once held scattered throughout the surrounding deck.

"Sorry!" she said instinctively, releasing her luggage as she moved forward to help the guy she knocked down. She recognized him instantly as James Wallace, known only as "Jimmy" to the crew.

She reached out to offer her hand out of politeness, but he barely acknowledged it as he jumped to his feet with incredible speed and rushed to gather the crates.

"Watch where you're goin', would ya?" he snapped. He gathered all but one crate, yet Ashe couldn't help but simply give a soft smile as she picked it up. She handed it to him, but before he accepted he got a good look at who he ran into and his ears flushed a light pink hue in embarrassment.

"I-I'm sorry Miss," he apologized sincerely. "I didn't see you."

"Don't worry, kid," she shrugged it off. "I was rushing too, I didn't look where I was going."

"O-oh," he said humbly.

"So…where were you off to in a hurry?" she asked out of curiosity.

Jimmy opened his mouth to answer but a gruff voice startled them both, "Jimmy!"

They wheeled around and set their eyes on the First Mate of the _Venture_, Benjamin Hayes. He wore a dark overcoat with a matching cap. She could see by the look of his eyes that he was uptight, perhaps tense of the impending voyage. Part of her really couldn't blame him.

"Sorry, ," Jimmy said, trying to explain. "I was getting the last of the crates like you asked, but I-"

"It's my fault," Ashe cut in. Both of them turned to her, and Ben must have just realized she was standing there. "I wasn't watching where I was going and I kinda collided with the kid."

Hayes didn't say anything for a minute then looked back to Jimmy, "Okay, get back to work."

Jimmy nodded in obedience before he ran off down the deck with the crates in his arms. The First Mate waited until Jimmy was out of sight before he looked back to Ashe.

"I'm Ben Hayes," he greeted, a little less hostile, but not by much. "I take it you're the one who talked the Captain into this?"

Ashe thought about how best to respond, "Guilty as charged….well, mostly anyways. My boss talked me into it first."

A lengthy moment of silence passed between them before the First Mate cleared his throat.

"Well…I guess a 'thanks' would be appropriate," he started. She gave him a confused look.

"If you hadn't stepped in," he explained. "The lawsuits might have cost the Captain the ship."

"Oh," she said, caught a little off-guard by the sudden words of gratitude. "You should probably think Cunningham, this was his idea…I'm just goin' with the flow."

Hayes narrowed his eyes in uncertainty, "Cunningham?"

"Yeah, he's my boss…I guess. The, uh, old Englishman with the snobbish accent and patronizing personality," she said. "He's not that hard to miss, you know, with the ego. You'll know him when you see him."

By his expression she could see that Hayes had not had the pleasure of making the old man's acquaintance and he could not help herself but to the envy him for that. But before this little trip was over and done with, she had no doubt that he would meet him sooner or later.

"Well," she said, "it was nice to meet you. I'll just go to my room now."

She picked up her luggage and turned to leave. Hayes watched her with a hint of perplexity in his gaze. Ashe had walked but a few paces before she came to a halt, and wheeled around confused. She was quiet a moment before she spoke.

"Just one question…," she said, in a tone which indicated she felt a little incompetent. "Where, exactly, is my room?"

Hayes resisted the urge to chuckle as he simply smiled and gave a small nod.

"I'll show you to your cabin," he offered. Ashe couldn't help but to smile a little out of gratitude.

****

As he stood on the docks, going over the last of the paperwork for the voyage ahead, Captain Englehorn could not help but feel anxious. Even though everything was thus far running more than just smoothly, he still had this gut-wrenching feeling that something was doomed to go wrong. It wasn't that he had doubts about Ashe. On the contrary, in his opinion she was one of the more seemingly honest individuals he had met. He wouldn't go so far as to say she didn't have her fair share of secrets, but he would put a lot more faith in her word than her employer's.

Now, when Englehorn had spoke to Cunningham over the phone, his first impression was not exactly the greatest. In his mind, the Englishman was the sort of man who had his own personal agenda. People like that tended to simply piss him off. Carl Denham was perhaps the best man to exemplify that stereotype.

"Englehorn!"

_Speak of the devil_. The Captain turned to lay his eyes on the director, who to his dismay had with him his suitcase. Behind him he could see Ann Darrow, Jack Driscoll, Bruce Baxter, _and_ Preston Atwood each with their own luggage and ready to go.

"What the hell are you doing here?" he growled at Denham. From the Captain's apparent look of discontent, the director could see that their arrival was anything but expected.

"I'm sorry…" he started, "apparently you weren't informed that we had signed on to come as well…"

Englehorn opened his mouth to speak when he was cut off from behind, "It's alright, Englehorn. They have my permission to accompany us on the voyage."

Wheeling around, Englehorn looked as Jamison Cunningham stood with his hands in his pockets and pip in his mouth. He looked contently at the Captain, while he returned the gaze with a cold glare. _What gave him the right to invite passengers?!_

Well, technically, this little expedition was funded entirely by Cunningham, so the Englishman had full rights to invite whoever the hell he pleased. But…why of all people did he have to invite _Carl Denham_. Miss Darrow he never had a problem with. He even had a little respect for Driscoll and Preston. Hell, he'd even tolerate the actor before Denham any day!

Cunningham saw the look in Englehorn's eyes and smiled, "Relax, Captain. All expenses are paid for in full. You have been more than compensated for your assistance."

The Captain thought it best not to push it. The man was right. He had been paid for the voyage _in advance_, a full fifteen grand. It was more than he was expected. _Much more._ His ship was in full working condition. The surviving members of his crew faithfully returned once more, just as Ashe had predicted, to see this through to the end. And what's more, he was even able to acquire more men thanks to Joe's help in recruitment. So far, not a thing was going wrong. But then again, the day was still young. And Kong wasn't even here yet.

So for now, he could do little more than tolerate the situation. He turned to Denham.

"One wrong move," he warned in a low tone, "and I swear you're being thrown overboard."

It wasn't so much _how_ he said it, than how he looked at him _when_ he said it that made Denham know that Englehorn was definitely _not _bluffing. He was silent for a moment as the Captain glared at him before he strode past with a little haste in his steps. Preston followed him curtly, giving Englehorn a quick nod of acknowledgement as he passed him. Baxter did the same as he, too, followed Denham. Finally, the Captain stopped to upon the playwright and the actress. Whatever they're conflict was about when they last parted from the _Venture_, apparently had been resolved, considering that they greeted him hand-in-hand with one another.

"Driscoll. Miss Darrow," he addressed. "I must admit I'm a bit surprised to see you both _volunteering_ for the journey."

"Yeah, well…", Driscoll began, but Ann cut him off.

"We _all_ have to do this. It's our responsibility," she explained, the determination evident in her tone and in her eyes. She was not the same woman who first stepped onto the _Venture_ all those months ago. Something in the way she carried herself made her stand out as more determined and knowledgeable. Miss Darrow was really quite a woman. Despite the traumatic experiences she must have endured throughout her journey on Skull Island, she held out pretty strong. Most women Englehorn had come across would have needed therapy. But not Miss Darrow.

"Captain," Cunningham intervened. "Kong should be arriving within the next five minutes. Is everything prepared?"

Jack and Ann both gathered their luggage and started for the ramp as Englehorn turned to the Englishman.

"Yes," he replied. "The cargo bay has been cleared. There are enough sedatives to keep Kong asleep for the duration of the voyage. When does your flight leave?"

"Soon, but I have time to spare," Cunningham said. "I wanted to stop by and check on Ashelia."

He saw Englehorn's confused expression and smiled.

"I mean Ashe," he clarified. During their past discussions over the phone, Cunningham had been vague on the subject of that strange woman. Englehorn knew little more about her than when he first spotted her on this very dock last week. He wondered if even the Englishman knew much more about her. Then again, even if he did, it's not likely he would share. "She has a rather strong preference for the shortened version of her name."

"How long have you known her?" he asked curiously.

Cunningham chuckled, taking the pipe out of his mouth, "For quite some time. I worked with her parents for a while, long before she was born. They, too, worked for Marshall Industries."

_But what kind of work? _That was the real question going through the Captain's mind. However, he figured getting answers from a man like Cunningham would be like trying to get them from a brick wall. He was barely able to get any straight answers when they spoke on the phone. The man was vague when it came to who he represented, which he called 'Marshall Industries'. Apparently, it is a small company dedicated to advancing technology. As if that was enough, it had various branches which focused on anything from medical research to education funding, and so on. What they did was of little importance to Englehorn. As long as they paid him, they could work on whatever the hell they wanted.

"Ah, they're here" Cunningham said finally, his eyes looking past the Captain who followed his gaze to the port entrance. Numerous military vehicles swarmed the surrounding docks, ranging from marines to navy to army. Uniformed officers flooded from the vehicles, each and every one of them armed heavily.

"The mayor thought it best that Kong receive something of an escort to the ship," he added. "I assured him the animal was heavily sedated, but it's just a precaution. A navy ship will escort you out of the harbor, but you should be free from there."

"May I ask how you managed to trap the ape?" Englehorn asked. "I mean, you had it cornered on the Empire State Building, correct?"

Cunningham nodded, putting away his pipe finally, "Yes. The plunge would have killed him if he fell, but luckily he was securely fastened to the roof. I was then afraid that the amount of sedatives would have killed him, but luckily it was enough."

The two men watched as more vehicles crowded the docks. It was indeed quite an entourage. There was a large gap in the midst of the mass, allowing the large freighter truck which transported Kong to squeeze through. The sheer size of the ape was weighing down the truck, but it managed to move him without sustaining any damage. Of course, Kong was so beyond the point of consciousness he probably didn't feel a thing. Englehorn couldn't shake the dread of having that ape on his ship once more, but it would be a trip he would have to bear. Luckily, this one would not be as long as the trip from Skull Island.

One of the officers, obviously one of high-rank, stepped forward and greeted Cunningham. Englehorn didn't hear what conversation went on between them, but it wasn't his concern. His eyes were fixed on Kong for the longest time before he turned to his men.

"Alright! Everyone get to work!" he yelled, getting the attention of every nearby sailor under his command.

"Load the ape," he barked. He stood by with a dark expression as the cranes overhead moved forward, ready to hoist the ape onto the ship, which had its cargo doors opened on the deck. He stopped for a moment to see the old man walking away. Cunningham came to a halt beside one of the military vehicles, stepping aside for one of the officers to open the door. He looked to Englehorn, regarding the Captain with a confident smile and a curt nod before getting into the truck.

The Captain returned his acknowledgement with a slight nod of his own, if only as a sign of mutual respect, before turning back to his work. He felt the heavy burden on his shoulders once more and knew this was going to be a very long journey, and he couldn't help but pray this wouldn't be his last.

*****

It had been a full two days since they had set sail, and Ashe couldn't help but feel a sense of freedom as she looked out at the vast cobalt-hued waters of the Atlantic. The weather had been decent, which was a relief because Ashe never really slept easy in stormy weather. It always kept her awake.

Standing out on the bow of the ship, leaning against the railing, she watched as gulls flew overhead, soaring on the light breeze which blew through her raven black locks. She had a cigarette in her hand, occasionally taking a hit as she soaked up the sun and fresh sea air.

"I see I'm not the only one who finds the calm seas relaxing," she heard a soft voice behind her.

Ashe turned and saw the actress standing a few feet away, her hands locked together. She had a gentle smile on her face, complementing her soft blue eyes and golden hair.

"I'm Ann Darrow," she introduced herself. "You're Ashe, right? I'm sorry…I've heard your name spoken amongst some of the crew."

"_Really_?" she mused aloud. "And what have they said?"

"Well," Ann admitted, still smiling, "not a whole lot. Mostly they've just explained why you're here and all. Jimmy said you kept to yourself mostly."

"Ah, I see," she chuckled. It's true, she had been a little reclusive the past two days. She had kept to herself mostly, perhaps out of natural instinct or whatever. It was her nature. Not that she found enjoyment in being the stereotypical loner, detached from society and humanity…but it was sometimes the hazard of the job.

"I…" the actress started. She hesitated, her mind searching for the right words. "I just want to thank you….for Kong."

Ashe shook her head, "No, it's no problem…"

"Really…he's not what most people think," she said, she tried to continue but Ashe cut her off.

"Miss Darrow, I know," she smiled. She could see that Ann must have had trouble convincing a lot of people that Kong wasn't a monster. Well, Ashe had seen some monsters in her time, sometimes in the most unlikely of places. Sure, the ape was well…an ape. But he wasn't evil. And Ann didn't need to convince her of that.

A sign of relief washed over Ann's face, her mind eased that Ashe didn't few Kong as a killer.

"So," the actress said finally. "Why _did_ you volunteer to help? I mean, in bringing Kong to Africa and all?"

'_Volunteer'_ wasn't exactly the word Ashe had in mind when describing her involvement. Coerced. Forced. Those were all words that were probably more accurate, but Cunningham most likely explained that it was her job to help and she was more than willing to do so.

So, all she could really do was just grin and bear it. Or…bear it anyways.

"Well…" she said, considering a valid answer to her question. "It's my job, really. Marshall Industries wants to see that a creature like Kong is given a stable environment for his own welfare and protection."

"Who?" Ann asked in confusion.

"It's the company I work for," Ashe explained, but in the back of her mind she couldn't help but feel it sounded ridiculous. "Mostly, it's a research company, but it works with industrial technology and innovations. But in the past few years it's grown and has been able to branch out and has a lot of divisions, one of which tries to fund the protection of the environment, and wildlife. Especially, endangered. That's the division I work for. Animals like Kong are of extreme interest to our research."

"Oh," the actress said. "Wow. That's…quite a job." It surprised Ashe that Ann had listened to every word she said. Usually, she tended to lose people when she talked for lengthy amounts of time. Not because she sounded boring, but because when she spoke sometimes she rambled. When Ashe told lies like that over and over, she tended to speak pretty fast and it wasn't hard for people to lose what she was saying entirely. But then again, she was never really a great oratorical speaker.

"Well, I do have another question," Ann continued, folding her arms across her chest. "Why aren't you taking him back to Skull Island? I mean, it was his home. He doesn't really know anything else."

"True," Ashe agreed, leaning back against the rail. "But Skull Island is sinking. Give it a decade, maybe a little longer, and it will be swallowed by the sea. It's really too unstable for Kong to stay there anymore."

Ann seemed surprised by her remarks, "How do you know so much about the island?"

_Uh-oh_, Ashe thought. _Talk about a foot-in-mouth moment! _She could have damn-well kicked herself for not thinking before she spoke. The truth of Skull Island's existence had only been made public to the world since Kong was brought ashore to New York little over a week ago. She froze, trying to think of some answer that sounded half-way decent.

"Well…considering its location, it's not very surprising that it would be custom to violent undersea quakes. It's something I heard in a science class once …" she said, faltering a little. She hoped her pained, unconvincing tone was just a figment of her self-conscious mind, but she could see by Ann's look of slight disbelief that she sucked at lying on the spot.

"Look, Miss Darrow," Ashe said finally with a heavy sigh. "All that's really important now is we get Kong safely to the reserve. He'll be safe. Thanks to you, really. No one will hurt him anymore."

Ann Darrow took a moment to take a good long look at Ashe, studying her with uncertainty evident in her blue eyes. It was a look that Ashe had actually grown accustomed to sometimes. She could tell the actress was trying to decide whether or not she needed to be trusted. She wouldn't hold it against her if she did doubt her. Hell, it's what she would do. After a drawn-out, awkward silence in which neither of the two women spoke, Ann stepped forward and held out her hand.

"Well, then," she said, a small smile returning, "I suppose you have earned my sincerest gratitude."

Ashe could see that Ann meant that sincerely. She reached out and shook her hand while returning the smile. She was unique from other people she had met in the past. Maybe it was her heart or her candor that made her stand out, but Ashe could see that Ann was one of those few people who you could really trust.

"Thank you, Miss Darrow," Ashe said finally.

"You can call me Ann," she said. "'Miss Darrow' sounds too formal, really."

"Alright, Ann it is," she agreed with a small laugh.

A small part of her felt relieved that she had at least one person on the ship who trusted her. Well, maybe trust is too strong a word. Accepted? Maybe that was better suited. Either way, it didn't matter. She was relieved nonetheless.

"Have you…met Kong?" Ann asked inquisitively.

"No," Ashe admitted. "Not personally. I saw him at the theatre before his big break out, but I never did have the honor to make his acquaintance. "

The actress's smile widened, "Would you like to? He's not entirely awake, but I know he can hear still. He still knows we're there."

She took a moment to consider the proposition before shrugging finally, "Sure. Why not?"

Ann looked absolutely delighted by her consent, and motioned for Ashe to follow her to the cargo hull to see Kong for herself.

****

It was a dimly lit room which held Kong. In the past, Ashe assumed it must have been where animals from previous journeys were held. It had been cleared of the cages and crates to make room for Kong, but there were still bales of hay in the far corner, with varies straws of it covering the dingy floor. The smell was probably the most striking aspect of the entire area, but Ashe really couldn't complain. She had seen worse, so it didn't bother her as much as it must have most of the other passengers who weren't regulars.

"You get used to the smell," Ann said over her shoulder with a small grin. Apparently she knew it was a thought that must strike everyone's mind once or twice when they first enter.

Ashe's eyes turned to the sleeping form of the giant ape, Kong, his chest rising and falling with each breath. She couldn't help but see how helpless he really was in that unconscious state. She stood back, simply looking at the creature in amazement. She'd admit that she had seen quite a few amazing things in her life, unbelievable things. Kong was probably on the top of that list. To determine his age exactly would be difficult, but she assumed he was in his late maturity, not old, but just in his prime. Jagged scars covered his body, revealing his troublesome fight for survival on Skull Island. His immense size was enough for Ashe to feel her heart skip a beat just at the sight of him.

But not Ann. She stepped forward with no hesitation whatsoever, placing a hand on the ape's enormous furry arm. Kong was in too deep a sleep to realize their presence, but the actress smiled, greeting him and calling out to him as if to stir him. She turned back to Ashe.

"It's okay," she said. "You can step forward. He won't hurt you."

Ashe took a moment to consider the offer, before taking a deep breath and taking a few steps closer. She could see that Ann's voice indeed had an effect on the creature for a small growl escaped his throat. Not a threatening one, but more like a drowsy moan you would hear when trying to wake someone. His paw twitched a little, and Ashe couldn't help herself when she leaned down and placed a gentle hand on it. Where there was no fur, his skin felt like worn leather, toughened over the years. Her fingers traced some of the scars that tore through his paw, before looking up. One eye was closed, but the other was slightly open. Whether or not he was conscious of either of them, Ashe could not be sure. Part of her believed he was. Her stare was fixated on his, the warm chocolate hue of his iris regarding her with a drowsy form of curiosity.

It's funny really. She saw more serenity, more peace, in his gaze than in most people. Maybe it was just the chloroform, but she was positive there was an ounce more of humanity than any human she had met. She laughed a little.

"What's so funny?" Ann asked smiling.

"It..It's just kinda funny, I guess," she said.

"What?"

"Just…Kong. I mean, well, you know people heard these ridiculous myths of 'beast men' from the mountains of Africa and they disregarded them as old folklore and children stories. Then October 17th, 1902….someone drops a mountain gorilla on an autopsy table and people were like 'Oh, _that's_ what they saw…"

She chuckled a little, "I'm sorry. I don't know what made me think of _that_ specifically…I guess, the saying 'Seeing is believing' is a good way to sum it up."

Ann smiled and nodded, looking to Kong who now had both eyes shut, "Yeah. I wasn't so sure I believed it either…when I first saw him, it was like a nightmare. It didn't seem real."

"Reality is usually just a matter of perspective," Ashe mused quietly to herself. Ann heard, but didn't respond.

Suddenly they heard someone from behind, clearing a throat. Both women turned to see Jack Driscoll standing there patiently. Neither of them was aware of how long he must have been standing there. He gave a polite smile to Ashe then looked past her to Ann.

"Dinner's ready in the galley," he said nudging his head toward the door "C'mon, you need to eat something."

Ann stood up, giving a small nod of agreement. Ashe herself felt a little famished, but she hadn't really been in the mood to eat. She'd been a little on edge lately, so she hadn't really made her way to the galley. Luckily, Jimmy noticed her lack of appearance and was kind enough to bring her a spare plate of grub the past two evenings. Ann had started to walk towards Jack, but paused for a moment and looked to her.

"Would you care to join us?" she asked. Ashe considered the offer for a moment but shook her head.

"Maybe another time," she declined thoughtfully. Ann smiled and turned, leaving the cargo hold with Jack hand-in-hand.

Watching them leave together, Ashe leaned against the wall with a small sigh. There was a small part of her that envied that. A longing for someone to call her own. True love. She doubted it existed. Movies and books made it seem all too easy. And with her lifestyle, finding a soul mate was hardly on her list of priorities. Not that it was likely under any other circumstances though. The matters of human affection were always a trivial pursuit in her eyes. Rarely did she ever see true love, and if it did happen to occur once in a blue moon it died.

_Love is like fire. The brighter it burns, the faster it dies. _She remembered someone once saying those words long ago, but she could not recall the source from wince they came.

Sure, Ashe had men she cared for over the course of her life. Lovers weren't hard to come by. But then, "love" was perhaps too strong a term. She never had been a sucker for romance.

A small rumble from Kong shook Ashe out of her thoughts. He seemed so peaceful now, lying there, sedated beyond belief. She wished she could sleep _half _that good sometimes. Lately, her nights have been filled with reoccurring nightmares that never cease to disturb her peace.

She took a few steps forward and took a seat where Ann had rested, placing her hand on the soft black fur. Slowly, she began to recall a small song she had heard once as a child. It played itself in her head over and over, so she couldn't help herself but sing it aloud. She figured Kong probably wouldn't mind, but seeing as how he was her only audience member, she thought it wouldn't hurt.

"_Imba wimbo, Wa upepo ,Wakati unajiwa na," _she sang softly, stroking Kong's paw.

_Sing a song, And for a moment, You will be visited by the wind._

"_Imba wimbo wa upep, Wakati ndoto tamu."_

_Sing a song, And for a moment…._

"_Lala mpaka usiku uisheni," _she continued. Kong continued to sleep, yet she felt his paw twitch a bit. Perhaps he _could _hear her.

_Dream sweetly of the wind._

"_Upepo wa usiku. Wimbo wanko na."_

_Sleep now until the night is dawn. The wind and the night song, they are there._

"_Wimbo wangu inaendelea milele," _she finished.

_However the song, my child, will go on forever._

Sitting there quietly, she watched as Kong's slumber was not disturbed. She doubted a bullhorn would wake him up from his sleep, let alone her lullaby.

"I think if he were awake, he would have enjoyed it more," she jumped at the voice from behind. She wheeled around and saw Englehorn leaned against the frame of the door, his arms folded across his chest. Behind him she saw Choy standing there, holding another bottle of chloroform. Apparently, Kong was soon to receive his next batch of sedatives.

"How long were you standing there?" she asked defensively, rising to her feet with her eyes narrowed. She didn't like being spied on. Technically, that was _her_ job most of the time.

"Long enough," the Captain replied with a small smile on his face. "I heard the ape's sedatives were wearing off. What language was that?"

"Swahili," Ashe answered shortly after a short pause.

"Where did you learn it?" he continued with curiosity, even though the look on Ashe's face told him she was annoyed at the invasion of privacy.

She was quiet a moment before replying, "My mother sang it to me."

For a few seconds, neither of them spoke. Englehorn couldn't be sure what she was thinking now. At the mention of her mother, he could see Ashe felt uncomfortable with the conversation. Finally, she built up the nerve to just walk away. The Captain opened his mouth to speak, but Ashe continued out the door and around the hall. He couldn't say that he was surprised though. She had her own secrets, he knew it from the moment he met her.

Moments passed and he completely forgot Choy standing behind him with the Chloroform. He noticed the small Chinese man was staring up at him, one brow raised inquisitively. But from the dark glare the Captain shot back at him instantly, Choy scurried forward to give Kong another dose. Englehorn sighed, wishing he had handled the conversation with Ashe a little better.

Ashe had returned to her room shortly after her little encounter with the Captain, her temper having had time to simmer down. She wasn't sure why she reacted with such hostility towards him. He just…_appeared _out of nowhere! The dread that she was losing her touch crept into the back of her mind. She didn't even sense him behind her! Perhaps she was just too lost in thought.

Why did he suddenly get under her skin so bad? She was usually able to keep up a calm exterior, even under the most severe of situations. But this whole trip has had her on edge.

****

Sitting on her bed, her sketchbook in her lap, Ashe drew a scenic picture with charcoal. An enormous lighthouse towered in the background overlooking a vast bay. Her eyes were locked on the sketch, her focus entirely enveloped in her work as always. In one hand, she held the small charcoal stick, and in the other, a half-burned cigarette. Her bangs hung low in her face yet she was far too fixated.

But it wasn't entirely the art that had her mind in its grip. Something was still eating at the back of her mind. She couldn't put her finger on it though.

_Knock, knock._

Her eyes shot upward towards the door as it crept open with Jimmy appearing from behind it. He peaked in, looking to her shyly.

"Miss Ashe?" he said. "Were you hungry?"

Setting aside the notebook and smothering what was left of the cigarette in an ashtray, Ashe sighed, "You know, kid, you really don't have to bring me food. I feel like a bum each night when you do."

Jimmy smiled, "Well, I know, but you really never show up around mealtime, so I figure it's best not to let ya starve."

Well, it wasn't like she could reprimand him for kindness. She just folded her arms across her chest as he opened to door more widely and stepped forward. His eyes moved constantly, like a small animal taking in its surroundings. No doubt her room was indeed in little better care than that of her apartment back in the Bronx. His hands were in his pocket, in which Ashe found humorous. At least he couldn't steal anything. Still, couldn't be too careful. She couldn't help but keep an eye on him to make sure nothing went missing.

"Anyways, I was wondering if you would like to actually come to the galley for some food," he asked hopefully. "I mean, so you can get to know some of the crew and all."

By his expression, Ashe could see he was hoping she would accept. But why he was bothering to reach out to her was confusing to say the least. His history as a kleptomaniac and street kid wasn't actually an experience shifting one into a form of maturity. Getting to her feet, Ashe studied him curiously.

He stood feeling slightly awkward as she stared, "…What's wrong?"

A short pause and then she asked, "Why are you so keen on turning me into a social butterfly?"

His brows narrowed in confusion, "What?"

"I mean," she explained, "it was you who told Ann to talk to me. It was you who tipped the Captain and Choy that Kong needed more chloroform."

Jimmy stood abashed, giving a nervous laugh, "How did you-?"

"I like to pride myself on my observational skills when the time comes," she mused.

"Oh," he sighed. He stood there with a touch of guilt in his eyes. Not shame for what he did, but rather for getting caught. Sort of like the little kid who stole a cookie from the cookie jar, only to get caught in the end.

"Relax," Ashe said. "I appreciate the thought. I was just curious."

The kid seemed to relax a little as he shifted his stance while rubbing his head, "Well, Miss-"

"Ashe," she cut him off in annoyance. "Shorter, less formal. Makes me happy so just go with it."

"R-right," he said. "Ashe, well…no offense, but being alone all the time ain't good for ya."

She cocked her head slightly to the side. Personally, she had always rather enjoyed a bit of solitude from time to time. Sure, when you're young being alone isn't all that grand. It usually leads to personality disorders, lack of social skills, and overuse of imaginary friends. But really, when you're mature, it's pretty delightful. Especially when you're not exactly a people person.

"Really?" she smiled. "Says who?"  
"I did," a voice from behind Jimmy said. Ben Hayes appeared leaning by the doorframe, his hands in his pockets. Both Jimmy and Ashe looked to him as he continued. "I told Jimmy to look out for you, help you get settled in the best you could for the voyage."

"Is that so?" Ashe said with an amused expression. "Thoughtful, I admit. But why the gesture? I guess my ego is bigger than I thought, I didn't realize I was considered a helpless damsel in distress."

Hayes smirked. He looked to Jimmy and nodded for him to leave. The boy hesitated for a minute then left, giving a small nod of farewell to Ashe before walking out of the room and down the hall. The First Mate waited till Jimmy's steps were distant enough then turned back to Ashe.

"I don't know what to consider you as," he sighed. "Not really. I don't think anyone does, even you. All I know is you aren't who you say you are, but I know you're here to help."

Ashe remained silent for nearly a minute before she finally spoke up, quietly though.

"What makes you think that?" she asked.

"Because Jimmy trusts you," he answered. His tone revealed mixed feelings of uncertainty and hesitation. "And so does the Captain. And I guess that will have to do."

His answer seemed sound, logical. The kid was naturally intuitive, if not entirely in the loop. And Ben had taken enough care of him to trust in his instincts, despite the occasional brash or childish act. The Captain on the other hand….well that was another matter. Another lengthy silence drifted between them before Ashe cleared her throat.

"So now what? You rat me out and make me walk the plank?" she questioned. "Assuming the old nautical pirate policy is valid, that is."

Hayes gave a small chuckle, "Don't worry. The Captain's already came to the same conclusion. But he trusts you, which is a first, so I figure what the hell?"

Ashe took a moment to study him curiously. Given the look in his eyes and stature, it was evident that every word he said was pretty accurate if only based solely on intuition and conscientious objectives. But she had to give them credit. They weren't nearly as dimwitted as she had feared. But then again, giving strangers an abundance of untested credit wouldn't be entirely smart on her part. After all, they _did_ bring the ape to New York City, so thus far their lack of common sense weighs heavily against their favor.

Finally Ben stopped leaning against the frame and stood straight, taking his hands out of his pockets and folding his arms across his chest as he stepped back through the doorway.

"So," he insisted, "ready to step out of isolation and spend time with actual people? Or does the company of your sketches suffice?"

_Do I have to answer that?_ She mused in her mind. But luckily, years of experience have taught her some restraint when moments where she compulsively recited aloud what had only just formed in thought. Well, it didn't always work. However there were the few cherished moments of such achievements.

Finally, Ashe sighed in defeat, following the First Mate without a word towards the galley.

*******

Author's Note: Sorry, I meant to add this earlier. The lullaby Ashe sang was actually a swahili lullaby. For those who recognize the words, it's the "Dedication and Windsong", by James Horner from the film Mighty Joe Young. I've always loved it. My apologies if the lyrics aren't exact, but it's very hard finding the translations online.


	6. To Trust or Not to Trust

Chapter 6

_I apologize for my extended delay! A combination of writer's block, school, and family issues have detained me from continuing my story. For those who have been anticipating the next chapters, you have my sincerest apologies. Please forgive me Please enjoy the story thus far!!!!!_

Both the First Mate and Ashe made their walk to the galley with little…actually _no_ talking. It wasn't exactly awkward, just somewhat tense. Sure, she could have refused the invitation. It's not like the thought didn't cross her mind at least once or twice to just turn back and return to the sanctity of solitude within her room.

Antisocial? Maybe. Personally she found the word filled with too much angst and misanthropic. Sure, her social skills were hardly up to par from time to time. It's not like she literally _lived_ in total isolation, whether she worked for the Order or not. Back in New York, she was known throughout the local nightclubs and pubs for her singing. She had friends…sort of. Joe, Hound-dog…well she couldn't really think of others. However, she simply enjoyed a peaceful existence. Ashe found the stereotypical loner burdened by self-loathing a depressing image altogether, much like reading an excerpt from Emily Dickenson or Edgar Allen Poe. In truth, she was content with solitude due to a basic result of her work ethic.

Working for the Order wasn't like a nine-to-five job. You didn't clock in and clock out. Describing her line of work was a difficult task, one she prided on herself for being able to avoid doing so. Sure, they went by the pseudonym "Marshall Industries". It wouldn't be a secret society if _everyone _knew about it, now would it?

Now, it's not the _Illuminati_ or the _Hermetic Order of the Golden Dawn. _It wasn't some organization bent on world domination or religious fanaticism. The rabbit hole dwelled much deeper than that. So deep that Ashe doubted one would ever delve deep enough to even scratch the surface beyond the realm dividing coincidence and fate. If you went too far…chances are you wouldn't live to see the light of day ever again. It was why she left.

She noticed Hayes glance back quickly, "You okay?"

His question shook her out from the depths of her thought, "Sorry?"

"You're quiet," he explained as he walked.

"Who talks much, must talk in vain," she said, quoting John Gay. "What's the point in opening one's mouth when there is not much to be said?"

Continuing onward, the First Mate did not speak again, and so must have been content with her answer. Well, it was honest. As they walked down the winding halls in lengthy silence which lasted for a good few minutes, they finally reached one of the doorways which lead to the galley. The sound of chatter could be heard from the hallway. There was no door, just a frame which led to mess room which was filled with a few tables and a counter dividing it from Lumpy's kitchen.

Hayes stood by the frame, then motioned for Ashe, "Ladies first."

"You're not coming?" she asked. He shook his head.

"I've already had dinner. It's my shift on the bridge," he said before turning and walking back down the hall.

She sighed, rolling her eyes before stepping forward. Instantly, Jack and Ann came into view, sitting together with Preston and Jimmy. A few sailors sat scattered between the tables. Choy and Lumpy could be spotted behind the counter, working within the kitchen. The aroma of food, or at least Ashe suspected what _could_ be food, floated in the air. She saw a chalkboard on the wall near the counter with the words, _Beef Stew Special._

She wondered if the mystery meat in the stew was really beef because by the smell, she had her doubts. But who was she to complain? It's not like she was much a chef herself. Then again, it wasn't really a lifelong aspiration to become a model housewife, thus she felt it was a loss she could live with.

The moment she entered the mess hall, a hush fell upon the small crowd. No, it wasn't complete silence. The majority of the sailors simply paused for a moment while giving Ashe the occasional sideways glance before returning to their own conversations. However, she could see Jimmy, Preston, Jack, and Ann quickly turn towards her.

If she didn't know better, she swore she could have seen Jimmy's face lighten with the hint of a smile. Even Ann seemed to be glad she finally joined the group. Seconds past and not one of them spoke.

"Somebody finally decided to grace us with their presence, eh?" she heard Lumpy say from behind the counter, taking it upon himself to apparently 'break the ice'.

"The kid kept bringing me my food with no salt. Got annoying after a while," Ashe declared. Technically she never really asked for salt, but hey, it was a sound excuse.

Walking toward the table, Jimmy moved over to offer a seat between her and Preston. Within seconds of being seated, Choy brought out a warm bowl of stew. He even gave her a small saltshaker.

"Nice and fresh," he proclaimed happily. She nodded in gratitude while the corner of her lip lifted into a smile. After sprinkling some salt she picked up her spoon, lightly blowing on the steaming broth to cool it before allowing it to touch her tongue.

She had to admit…it wasn't half bad. Just one of those meals one needed to overlook their sense of smell. She took a few more spoonfuls before raising her eyes to look at those seated at the table with her, for it had taken her a moment to realize they hadn't really spoken since she had arrived.

"How was Kong when you left him?" Ann took the opportunity to speak up.

"Sleeping like a baby," Ashe answered. With so many sedatives coursing through his system, she had her doubts he would wake if the ship was directly struck by a torpedo at full speed. The actress seemed relieved by her reply.

"So how has your voyage been so far, Miss Ashe?" Preston asked politely.

"_Ashe!_" Both Jimmy and she corrected simultaneously.

"Jinx," Ashe smiled to the kid. She looked back to Preston, "Not half bad."

"You travel much?" he continued, taking a sip from his glass of water. "I mean, you don't seem to be seasick at all!

She gave a light shrug, "Not so much anymore."

"Why not?" Ann questioned, "You sort of struck me as the adventurous sort."

"Yeah, well, I'm usually too busy lately," Ashe admitted before taking another spoonful. "It's nice to get out now though. The city's been too chilly for my taste. Africa has much more accommodating climates…well, once you get over the searing heat waves."

Ann seemed to perk up by her last sentence, "You've been to Africa before? What's it like?!"

Stopping for a moment to consider how best describe what was perhaps her most favorite continent. The past few centuries, throughout its history…its wonders, tragedies, peoples have captivating not just her heart, but that of most modern civilizations. It was like the one frontier man could never truly tame. Its deserts, plains, and forests hold more secrets than humanity could fathom. The landscape had been defined by millions of years of change and growth, yielding the most spectacular beauties the world has ever seen.

Smiling, Ashe answered, "It's hard to describe exactly. It's like…describing a dream, really."

"What did you like about it so much?" Jack finally spoke up.

She took a few minutes before replying, "It's the best place to forget about your own problems."

"How so, exactly?" Ann asked confused.

Ashe gave a light shrug, "The place is huge. Take a long walk through the Savannah or the Sahara….life seems more simple. It's peaceful, I guess. Lack of population and all."

"Kinda like being at sea," Jimmy commented.

She nodded in agreement. Her favorite place in Africa was undoubtedly the desert. Sure, the humidity wasn't exactly the most agreeable of its features, but that didn't matter. She'd take steamy weather over cold weather any day. But the desert was more than just a sweltering sand box. It wasn't a wasteland in her eyes. There was life, but not in the way it more commonly appears such as in the form of vegetation or variety of wildlife. She saw the sand dunes as living currents, much like the waves of the oceans. Forever moving, forever changing. Never staying the same for too long. The wind was like the breath of God himself, breathing life into the desert. It was perhaps the most peaceful place Ashe had ever visited in all her years of travel. And she's been to a _lot_ of places, especially considering all the assignments the Order gave her.

"Well, _I _personally can't wait to see it. I've read so much about it, it seems like it would be quite an adventurous place to visit!" Ann admitted.

"So, Ashe," Jack continued casually. "How is it you've traveled so much? Marshall Industries kept you busy?"

"You have _no_ idea," she said.

"Well, why did you quit? I mean, getting to see so many places must have been pretty amazing," Preston asked curiously. Ashe wondered to herself how he knew, but then again, Cunningham may have explained that she was just recently reinstated to the 'company'.

"It got old and rather tiresome after I while," she admitted quietly. "Just need a change of pace, I guess."

Ann smiled sincerely, "Well I'm glad you decided to help us with this situation."

Ashe returned the smile with gratitude. Ann was a unique sort of person, the sort you don't meet often in your life. She finished her stew, pushed the bowl forward and took a sip of some water Choy brought her seconds before.

"I'm just curious about one thing," Ashe announced. "Were you _really_ there to just make a _movie?_"

Jack sighed in exasperation, "We didn't really know it was our destination until…well…the night we ended up there."

"We _thought_ we were going to Singapore," Ann explained. "At least that's what we were told."

"Yeah….I figured as much. You people didn't strike me as crazy," she shot a glance to Lumpy. "Well…he did. But not _suicidal_ crazy."

Lumpy gave her a bemused glare before returning to his work.

"There's a fine line between brilliance and insanity," a voice from the doorway spoke out. Eyes turned to look at Denham standing in the doorway. Baxter appeared behind him, entering the mess hall with a slight nod of acknowledgment before making his way towards the kitchen to get some dinner from Lumpy.

"A line you crossed by fifty miles or so, wouldn't ya think?" Ashe countered, her expression darkened.

"With the chance of discovery, the stakes are always high," he said in his defense. "I did what had to be done."

"Right, and if history has taught us anything, it's that men with that sort of idealism that _always_ wind up with successful careers," she smirked. "Maximilien Robespierre. Atillia the Hun. Good choice in role models."

Denham stepped forward, his eyes narrowed, "You think the world would be what is today if people didn't take risks!?"

Ashe could see the director's temper was flaring by her little comment. His tone hadn't exactly risen, but she could see him tense up defensively. Yet she still held a calm, cool exterior. One thing she hadn't lost the knack of how to push the right buttons.

"Your idealism would seem almost admirable if it weren't such a load of bull," she declared smoothly. "You're not the kinda of person who's in it for the sake of the world! You're in it for yourself!"

The temperature in the room must have dropped to the negatives. A cold hush fell upon the room as Denham hesitated with a quick comeback. His eyes looked to Preston for support, who in return averted his gaze to the side, before looking to Baxter, whose reaction was identical. Jimmy simply glared coldly at him while Jack and Ann kept their backs turned to him. Seeing that the cavalry was not on his side calmly collected his composure, smoothing his hair before walking to the counter. He grabbed a bowl of stew already prepared by Lumpy.

Looking back to the other passengers, he sighed, "I suppose I'll just eat in my cabin. Good evening, everyone."

With that said, he turned and exited, his head still held high with what little dignity he could manage. Bruce took a seat at a nearby table, poking his spoon at the stew in an apparent attempt to make sure nothing was still alive and wriggling from within. An awkward silence hung in the air after Denham's departure. Finally Ashe looked to Preston.

"Has he…always been so…" she started to say, but she seemed to have difficulty in finding the right words. Preston just smiled.

"I'm afraid so," he confirmed simply. He knew what she meant, even if she didn't say it.

"I see," she nodded quietly.

Ann cleared her throat, "If you don't mind my asking, where _exactly_ is Kong going to be staying in Africa?"

Ashe frowned, "Did Cunningham not give you the details?"

"Well, he gave a few," she answered. "But he was a little vague about the reserve, mostly because when we spoke he was rather busy so he didn't have time to really explain everything."

_Sounds like Cunningham_, she thought. That damn man was too vague for his own good. But it was in his nature more or less.

Sighing, Ashe rubbed her forehead with her fingertips. She had been given a thin file giving a description of their destination. It was hard not to memorize.

"Basically, it's not _in _Africa, at least not on the mainland. It's an island off the coast, called Mauritius. It is part of the Mascarene Islands, which is an archipelago formed about eight to ten million years ago. Given its environment and climate, it's a pretty close match to Skull Island. Well, more vegetation was added to the Reserve, but overall it's a pretty lush little island. Think…southern Florida….minus the tourists."

"How would know it's a good match? With Skull Island, I mean. I thought it was undiscovered," Jack interrupted, his eyes narrowed in confusion.

"Well, we judged the island's climate given its location," Ashe clarified. It wasn't entirely true, but hey….it's a white lie, not a big deal. "And given that Kong is a gorilla…albeit a large gorilla….it's natural to assume the climate would be similar if not identical to that which regular gorillas are accustomed to. I'm not exactly an expert on climatology, but Cunningham handpicked experts to decide which habitat would be better for Kong."

The writer didn't seem the least bit satisfied with her explanation. It was no doubt that both he and Ann had discussed the motives behind this little expedition, and more than likely if Ashe was to be trusted at all. And while Ann seemed content with her cover, Jack apparently was not.

"So, let me get this straight," he started. Ann opened her mouth to protest, but he continued regardless. "You're telling me that Cunningham is just doing this out of the kindness in his heart? What's the catch?"

_Wish I knew_, Ashe thought to herself. But all she could reply with was a simple shrug and sigh.

"All I can really tell ya," she stated, "is he's the sort of man who does things because the pure simple fact that he _can._ When you're that rich, you don't do rational things. And let's face it…rationality has very little to do with this expedition."

She would hardly bother defending Cunningham's motives. Personally, she was getting tired of explaining, so she returned to Ann and continued, "Anyways, Mauritius is roughly, seven hundred and eighty seven square miles. It has a relatively small population, and the reserve is well protected so poachers and other unwanted guests won't be an issue."

"How was Cunningham able to convince the people who run the reserve to take in the ape? Especially with such short notice?" Preston chimed in.

"Technically, it's his park," she explained. "The island has been under British rule since 1810, and Cunningham owns more than half of it."

From the looks of their faces, she could see they were surprised. Well, it was a little unfathomable for a single person to be that wealthy. However, according to the Peerage of Great Britain, Cunningham was officially given the title of Duke of Cornwall, Twenty-first Earl of Shrewsberry, Marquess of Needham and Dorby…and something else… Really, he was important by birth mostly. She couldn't give his exact titles, but then it really wasn't her concern. He was her employer.

"Look, I told you the man had too much money for his own good," Ashe sighed, taking out her cigarette pack from her pocket along with a match box. She lit up a smoke before taking a drag, letting the smoke exhale through her lips. "He has family and friends in high places. He's always had a love of animals. Think of Kong as his little "safe-a-life" project or something."

Ann had got up from her seat to get another glass of tea from Lumpy before returning to the table, "But I was under the impression that Cunningham was helping Kong at the request of Marshall Industries? Under their 'Environmental Protection Project' branch, or something of that sort?"

Ashe gave a light shrug, "He can say that all he wants, but it just gives him an excuse to help out."

She took another drag before Preston spoke again.

"Out of curiosity, Ashe," he began, "where are you from? I mean, I've lived in New York only a few years, but you don't really have the accent."

She laughed, "Yeah, I was hopin' a few years in the Bronx would remedy that, but I guess it takes more time. I was born in England, but I moved around a lot. I've spent a lot of time in the states. Most of that time was spent in the South. From Louisiana to Alabama, actually. "

True, technically her accent was more American if anything, despite her lineage. A hint of her ancestry sounded in her voice, but just barely. She had spent the majority of her time in the states either in the South or the West, so she didn't have the tough New Yorker tone just yet. If anything, her southern accent was more noticeable than anything. Particularly when she spoke too fast.

"Why did you move so much?" Jimmy asked.

Ashe paused a moment before answering, "Well, my folks died when I was little. I had family, but they were really distant relatives. And they were the travelling sort, so….you know."

It wasn't a lie…_per say…._But, it's not like she had a lot of practice when it comes to talking about her past…well, she _never_ talks about her past for that matter. It just wasn't really a topic that commonly rose up in a conversation, at least not one of her choosing. And she had a feeling that this was conversation headed straight for memory lane, and that was a road she had absolutely no interest in visiting anytime soon. So, Ashe rose to her feet, giving a small feigned yawn.

"Afraid it's way past my bedtime," she insisted. "I'll see your bright, happy faces tomorrow."

She gave a small nod of acknowledgement to Lumpy and Choy as she exited, who returned the gesture as she disappeared down the hall.

* * *

"Well, _I_ still don't know if I trust her," Jack declared. No one had spoken until the sound of Ashe's small footsteps faded down the hallway. "She's vague, like Cunningham. Like she's hiding something."

"Of course she's hiding something!" Bruce spoke up. Eyes turned to him and he shrugged, "I mean…c'mon…like it's not _obvious!"_

No one spoke after that for a while, not even the few sailors sitting at the back tables. It was an uneasy silence, hanging in the air only broken occasionally from the clanging of pots and pans in the kitchen as Lumpy and Choy started to clean up. The anxiety of this voyage was thick in the atmosphere aboard the ship, like the fog surrounding Skull Island.

"Just out of curiosity," wondered Preston aloud. "I don't suppose anyone has ever _heard _of Marshall Industries? I mean…like from the newspapers or something?"

"Not me," Jimmy said. Both Ann and Jack shook their heads.

"I have," a gruff voice spoke out from the galley. Everyone looked to Lumpy, who leaned against the counter with a cigarette between his lips. To say their very faces screamed disbelief would have been an understatement. But the cook continued casually.

"It was started back in London," he explained. "I was still a lad, but I remember it. Started by members of the privileged, upper class sort. You know, the fancy, more well-to-do folk-"

"Like Cunningham," Jack interrupted.

Lumpy gave a quick nod, "Yeah, he's the sort. He built it up a few years back with the help of friends in high places."

"What for?" Ann spoke up.

The cook gave a light shrug, "Dunno exactly. Something to do with science or some such nonsense. Load of bollucks, if you ask me."

"How so?" Preston pressed.

Lumpy was quiet for a few seconds, taking what remained of his cigarette and licking his lips before sighing, "It's too secretive to be a blimy science project. My guess…somethin' more along the lines of espionage and warfare. I knew a bloke, once, back in England. Said he knew a man who had a brother working for Marshall Industries. Never really said _exactly _what his brother did, but whatever it was…"

He left his words hanging, literally leaving those in the galley in suspense. Finally, a small chuckle rose amidst the silence. All eyes fell upon Bruce Baxter who had finished his dinner.

"_Oh please_!" he scoffed. "You knew a guy who knew a guy who knew a guy?! That's an _urban myth!"_

While Lumpy's cryptic explanation was troubling, Bruce's claim was fairly believable. It was logical, more or less, to perceive the cook's suspicious as simple paranoia or exaggeration. It wasn't a particularly large leap to come to the conclusion. It was he, after all, who claimed to believe in the mythical "Abominable Snowman" all those months ago on Skull Island. Jack recalled that exact moment when they were searching for Ann Darrow, and came across Kong's trail. He damned near had everyone convinced he knew what took her…too bad it was a let-down.

Most would mistake him as the sarcastic, albeit rough-and-tumble individual, but Lumpy was a man who believed in a great many things most people would discard as superstitious ideology. Regardless, there were few men with his sort of blunt honesty and general sense of virtue. Well…maybe virtue was a stretch. He was a sailor, not a saint. However, he was the sort of man one would want on their side when push came to shove.

The few men who were once in the back of the galley had left the room to return to their bunks for the night. All that remained were just Ann, Jack, Preston, Jimmy, Bruce, Lumpy, and of course, Choy. And not a single one of them spoke for quite a while. The distant sounds of the engines hummed in the background, as the cook returned to help clean up the kitchen with the oriental sailor.

Finally, Ann turned to Jack.

"Now I don't know what to think of this 'company' or people like Cunningham," she said, her tone filled with certainty. "But…I _know_ Ashe can be trusted."

Jack sighed heavily then opened his mouth to speak, but the actress cut him off, "Wait! Hear me out! I know this whole trip makes you feel uneasy. I'm a little nervous, too. The important thing is we get Kong somewhere safe."

She could see he was not going to be convinced by talk, even if it came from her. Jack sighed, giving her a light peck on the cheek before getting to his feet.

"Look," he groaned. "I just need to get some sleep. I'll be in our cabin."

He looked at Ann, who stared back concerned. He hesitated a moment before his expression softened, realizing he was taking his frustration out on her. And honestly, that was the last thing he wanted to do. He wasn't lying exactly. It was true that he hadn't been sleeping well, but the recollection of their last voyage on this ship was hardly reassuring.

He gave a short nod of farewell to everyone before leaving the galley and making his return to the cabin both he and Ann shared. The walk had helped him relax from the rather tense dinner. He wasn't even sure _why_ he was so agitated. So many things weighed heavily on his mind. Oddly enough, the gigantic ape wasn't really on the top of the list, even if he was the very catalyst for this whole situation.

"Are you always so uptight? Or is that a characteristic of playwrights?" a voice sounded from behind, startling him. He turned, and saw Ashe looking out her own door. He had forgotten that her cabin was so near to theirs, but then again, she was rarely seen thus far so he couldn't help but let it slip his mind.

"_Christ!_" he muttered, his heart skipping a beat. He was so lost in thought that the sound of pen drop would have given him a heart attack.

"Jumpy, much?" she smirked.

Jack had a bemused expression, "I don't like being snuck up on."

She quirked a brow, "Who said I was sneaking? My door was open, I stepped out. What's eating you?"

The writer's eyes narrowed at her and he stepped forward, "Look, no offense or anything, but I don't like being lied to."

She leaned against the frame, her arms folded across her chest.

"Truth is subjective," she pointed out immediately. "It's all about perception. As a writer, you should know that."

He didn't have a remark to shoot back at her, but she didn't wait around for him to think of one. Stepping back into her room, she closed the door. He stood in the hallway, a little perplexed by her comment. It wasn't exactly a confession of deceit, but it wasn't a denial either. In irritation he turned and continued down the hall to the cabin.

Ann remained in the galley with the others as she watched Jack leave. She was concerned about him, to say the least. He wasn't angry with her, she could see that. He was the sort of man who didn't take his anger out instantly, but instead let it build. And the frustration from the enigma involving this whole trip and those who funded it was hardly helping.

"Ann," Preston tried to reassure her. He could see the worry in her eyes. She looked up at him.

"Everything will turn out okay," he consoled. "You should go get some sleep."

She gave a small smile of gratitude for his attempt of encouragement as she stood up and departed from the room. Jimmy watched as she left then looked to Denham's former assistance with curiosity.

"Did you really mean that?" he asked. "I mean, about the whole 'everything will be okay' thing?"

Preston looked down, exhaling deeply, "I don't know. But it can't hurt to have some faith."

With that said, he rose to his feet and left to get some sleep as well. Within moments, Bruce had also departed to retire for the night. Jimmy looked to Lumpy.

"I trust her," he said confidently. "Ashe, I mean."

The cook glanced back at the boy before returning to his work, but he spoke anyways, "That's surprising. Mr. Hayes normally has his hands full makin' you play nice."

Jimmy couldn't help but smile, knowing that was rather true. He wasn't entirely sure why he was so compelled to trust Ashe. It was like…well…he wasn't sure.

"Why don't you like her?" he questioned the cook.

"I never said I didn't like her," Lumpy answered truthfully, storing what few dishes remained away. "Just don't know about this whole mess in general. But, a job's a job."

The boy could see that he was honest. He was a brawny, weathered sailor who had lived through a lot of hard years at sea. He'd been practically everywhere and anywhere known to man. He wasn't the sort to get frightened easily. Jimmy didn't know much of the ship's cook. Well, he was more than the cook, really. He was the ship's barber, dentist, veterinarian, as well as the chief medical officer. A jack-of-all trades if there ever was one.

Sure, a hardened seaman like Lumpy could get a job on any ship of his choosing. Perhaps not a _first-class ocean liner_, but any tramp steamer would be lucky to have his expertise. But he wouldn't leave the _S.S. Venture_ for anything. He had become too attached to the ship, ever since his arrival with Mr. Hayes. And his loyalty to the Captain was steadfast, which is one of the main reasons he probably has not protested _this_ voyage. He had come to respect the majority of decisions from Englehorn. And if he was willing to take on this job, Lumpy would stand by his orders one hundred percent.

"Jimmy," he said finally. "You look beat. Best get to bed, boy. There'll be work to be done come dawn."

The boy rose from the table, obeying the cook's wishes. He was rather tired, and he had to be up by the time the sun rose to get to work. Mr. Hayes was strict with him when it came to his duties. Then again, it was the only way he could really earn his own keep. From the day he wandered onto the ship those few years ago, Jimmy had always spent each passing day trying to prove he was worth keeping onboard. And with the discipline of someone like Hayes, he found that he himself was turning into a man. He hated being called a kid, so it was his responsibility to show everyone that he was more than just some good-for-nothing runaway.

When he had disappeared out the door, Lumpy started dousing the lights as both he and Choy had finished the kitchen completely. It wasn't sparkling clean, by any means. But the food had been stored, the dishes cleaned, and everything wiped down. The time was coming for a much-needed rest.

"I agree with boy," Choy admitted. "Ashe not bad."

Lumpy gave a short grunt, not necessarily in agreement or not. Finally, both he and Choy were left the galley down the hall towards the larger rooms where the sailors usually bunked together.

"Yeah, and her looks ain't got nothin' to do with you likin' her," he accused contemptuously.

"She got thing for me," the Chinese man smiled. "I can tell!"

Lumpy released a hearty laugh, "Mate, there is no way in this life or the next that that woman would ever feel the least bit attracted to you."

Choy merely smiled in denial, "You just jealous."

Lumpy couldn't really say anything to his little friend. Nothing in the world would ever reign on his parade, no matter how bad things got. He was still the most upbeat sailor the cook had ever come across in all his years at sea. But honestly, he wouldn't have his best friend any other way.

* * *

Ashe was sitting on her bed once again. The anxiety running through her system was preventing her from drifting off to sleep. Her sketchbook sat in her lap as she continued drawing, mostly now resorting to gesture drawings to let out her frustration. Normally, she was a perfectionist when it came to detailing sketches. The charcoal was held tightly in her right hand, smudges covering both her palms and parts of her face. But she didn't care, honestly. Hell, she had looked worse.

Pausing for a moment, Ashe set aside the sketchbook, leaning back in the bed. She was in no mood to sleep. Something had been eating at the back of her mind for days, ever since she received that dreaded phone call from Cunningham. She was tempted to light up another cigarette, but she knew with her luck, she'd be out of them in three days. Not that she didn't stock up for the trip, for heaven's sake. She was smarter than that! Still, with her stress levels going through the roof, she had to be careful not to waste them before they reached their destination.

Releasing a heavy sigh, she rose from her bed, leaving her room and making her way to the deck. She needed some fresh air, after all. She walked towards the bow of the ship, standing at the very edge of the railing as the _Venture_ pierced the dark sea. The waves were calmer than she expected. A faint breeze carried the smell of the salty water through the air, which Ashe couldn't help but find soothing.

She stepped forward, perched on the railing overlooking the murky water as it was parted by the hull. For how many minutes she stood on the railing, she couldn't recall for she had lost all track of time as she stared into the seemingly bottomless abyss below. Part of her couldn't help but muse how easy it would be to be lost in the black depths, to forget the problems consuming the turbulent world above. The sea had to the most strange, calming effect on her and it was difficult to explain.

Closing her eyes, Ashe listened to the roaring engines and the crushing waves while she inhaled the salty air. Moments passed by but she remained still.

"Thinking of jumping ship?" a cool, familiar voice sounded from behind, nearly making her jump. She jerked her head around and saw the Captain staring at her, his hands stuffed in the pockets of his trench coat.

"Tempting thought," she smiled. "But the water's too cold for my taste."

It was an honest enough reply. She was in no mood to feel the icy waters of the Atlantic in the middle of winter.

"Funny," Englehorn stepped forward. "You didn't strike me as the suicidal, Miss Ashe."

Giving a small shrug, "Only in the mornings. And it's just _Ashe."_

"Right…Ashe…" he repeated, leaning against the rail as he removed his hat for a brief moment, simply to run his fingers through his hair. It took him a few seconds of awkward silence to notice the woman gazing at him intently, as if studying him. One of his brows rose inquisitively.

"Something the matter?" he asked, placing the cap back on his head.

"Do you always wear the hat?" she questioned bluntly as she stepped down from the railing. She was never the sort of woman to mince words.

The Captain chuckled at her rather candid character, "_Why?"_

Ashe shrugged lightly, folding her arms across her chest, "Just curious. You seem to never be seen without it."

"Is it a habit of yours to speak impulsively?" Englehorn stared out at the sea as he wondered aloud. Perhaps it was a rhetorical question, she couldn't be sure. Staring out in the same direction she smiled.

"It's a mannerism I've rather perfected over the years," she answered frankly, leaning back on the rails.

In place of the chirping of crickets, which was the normal background melody during the periods of awkward silence, was the immense roar of the waves crushing against the bow as neither Ashe nor the Captain spoke. Finally, Ashe decided to take the initiative and cleared her throat. She had something which had been pestering her mind more than she'd begun to realize. And she was just now getting to the bottom of it.

"Earlier," she began carefully, as if attempting to choose her words carefully, "when you were notified that I was to come along….you seemed displeased, to say the least. Might I ask why, exactly?"

The Captain stared carefully, he himself having realized that he may have reacted with a few ounces of hostility. Even so, he had a feeling that even if he were to conceal such discontent, someone with such keen observational skills would have little difficulty to detect it.

"My apologies for my manners…or lack of," he started. "It's just that I don't care for unexpected changes aboard my ship. I like plans laid out beforehand."

Considering how his last voyage resulted, Ashe found that it was a decently believable. She waited for him to continue speaking, in the slightest hope he might elaborate. But then again, some things are better left unsaid. She could respect that. Hell, it's not like she was all that chatty about her own thoughts.

"Well…whatever the case may be," Ashe said finally. "Thanks, I guess."

The Captain's brows furrowed with confusion.

"I mean with…agreeing to all this," she explained. "You know…the whole 'transporting the giant ape' thing. Especially given the circumstances."

"In all honesty…I'd rather prefer to wash my hands of this whole mess."

A small smile grew on her lips, "I suppose I'd start to doubt your sanity if it were any other way."

Following a few seconds of strained silence, Ashe began walking back inside. She wasn't less sleepy than before her little stroll, but something about the Captain's presence made her uneasy, somehow less confident in her actions or thoughts. It was…difficult to understand, let alone try to explain to herself. Perhaps it was all in her head. Maybe she had been on sabbatical a little too long. Her nerves seemed to fail her, not necessarily physically as much as mentally.

As she walked away, she had a feeling that Englehorn's gaze was still locked on her. That thought deterred her from looking back, though why she was not sure.


	7. Denham's Perspective

When Ashe disappeared below deck, the Captain's eyes lingered on the threshold she entered to return to her room, as if he were half expecting her to reemerge for some reason or another. However, seconds passed and she did not reappear, and so he turned to the black sea which stretched as far as the eye could see. He was caught by surprise at the sound of someone clearing his throat. Englehorn spun his head around to see Carl Denham leaning against the wall, with a lit pipe between his lips and a rather smug expression.

"Interesting chemistry," he mused aloud, as if to himself.

"Eavesdropping? Somehow I'm not surprised," Englehorn said dryly.

The director's face formed into a feigned indignant reaction, "That hurts, Englehorn. _Actually_, I was here before either of you. Mere coincidence."

The Captain's eyes narrowed suspiciously, but he bit his tongue to hold back the urge to reply with an insult. He was certainly _not _in any mood to engage in a verbal bout with such a nuisance. He was to tense to hold back the need to clock the idiot. So, taking the high road, Englehorn turned to walk away.

"You gotta know there's more here than meets the eye," Denham said suddenly, making Englehorn come to a halt but not to face him. "Somethin' ain't right here. Even you gotta sense it."

Taking a deep breath, as if in restraint, the Captain remained silent. Carl Denham took the opportunity to continue.

"Look, Englehorn," he continued. "I'm here solely to see this thing through to the end. I'm not here lookin' for a fight."

Wheeling around, the look in Englehorn's eyes forced Denham to step back warily, "If it weren't for _you_, Denham, we wouldn't be in this mess! Your obsession is going to get us all killed!"

Denham hesitated for a moment, as if contemplating his next move. The Captain's temper was flaring, and saying the wrong thing could risk the director a few bruises and a broken nose. When he did not reply immediately, Englehorn turned around once more to leave.

"You could have said no," he said suddenly. Englehorn stopped but didn't look back. "You are as much to blame for this as me. You can stand on that pedestal on you like and preach…but it doesn't change the facts."

A lengthy silence passed, but Englehorn didn't turn around. Denham felt more at ease, as if he knew he pushed the right buttons. He knew that the good Captain had the nerve to clock him. But he was a smooth talker at heart, and he knew what to say and when to say it. A smug smirk settled on his face as he watched Englehorn continue to walk away, his hands curled into fists so tightly his knuckles were white.

Pulling out a cigar, he placed it between his lips and lit a match, inhaling the thick smoky aroma as he looked out to sea. He was as surprised as anyone to actually have been invited on this voyage. Pleasantly surprised, of course. He still had stock this little adventure, and he was intent on collecting. His mind wandered back to the moment he was brought onboard this little quest. Back to the moment he first met Jamison Cunningham.

* * *

"_If you have any questions, call that number," the mystery woman advised, before turning away and disappearing past the debris of the ruined theatre. He had no idea who she was or where she came from…she just appeared out of thin air. _

_In all honesty, Carl Denham wasn't even sure what exactly she told him before handing the small slip of a paper with the number to…who was it? Jamison Cunningham? Whoever that was…._

"_Denham! Carl Denham!" he heard someone familiar call his name…and the tone was anything but pleased. He looked up from the paper to see the Mayor of New York City heading straight for him, like a shark to a seal. Behind him were a few other important people…like the Chief of Police, the Fire Chief, and more than a few city Councilmen. _

_Rising to his feet, Denham gulped in an attempt to clear his throat to speak but he was cut off._

"_Denham! Do you have any idea what the hell you let loose in my city!" the Mayor boomed. Despite being about the same size, the director felt considerably small standing before him. Like a student being reprimanded by a principal for vandalism…or setting a twenty-five foot animal loose in the school gym._

"_Mr. Mayor, please…I can explain!" he started. But it was of no use. _

"_Don't even try it Denham!" he huffed. "Your ass Is goin' straight to County! You're gonna be booked on so many different charges, you're gonna need about twenty lawyers just to see daylight again!"_

_His rant continued but honestly, Denham didn't really hear the rest of it. It was like he tuned it out. He heard them shouting, swearing. He felt them put the cuffs around his wrists, but it was like a bad dream. One he couldn't wake up from. Leaving the theatre, he ignored the accusing stares from the people they passed by. What do they know?_

_Sitting the jail cell, alone, Denham leaned against the wall with the look of utter defeat written all over his face. There were a few cells surrounding his own, each containing the usual low-lives. It was maybe more crowded than usual…chaos had erupted in the city thanks to Kong's little stroll, and people were taking the opportunity to…enjoy a few extra liberties. Looting just happened to be one of them. Hey, it was the holidays. _

_He could hear people scurrying in the rooms nearby, sounds of telephones ringing off the hook, shouting, yelling….The city had gone to hell in a single night. What the hell was he going to do?_

_Suddenly the door to his cell creaked open. He glanced up, seeing a patrolman bringing in an old man. He looked more disheveled then he was, filthy like he hadn't bathed in days. Denham knew a homeless guy when he saw one. This day and age, in New York City, it was a pretty common sight. _

_He shuffled in like he was drunk…by the smell, he probably was. His grey beard was tangled, but grooming wasn't exactly a common courtesy while living on the streets. The stranger settled on the bench across from him, rubbing his hands together as he shivered visibly. Glancing up, he caught sight of Denham looking at him. _

"_Hey, 'fella," he said gruffly. "Mind sparin' me yer coat?"_

"_What?" he was caught off guard_

"_Yer coat…it's a lil' cold outside if you failed to notice," he sighed. _

_Denham was hardly in the mood to care. He wasn't cold, in fact, he didn't feel hardly anything. With a heavy sigh, he removed his wrinkled wool coat and tossed it to the poor guy, who grasped it as if it were a million bucks. He gave a small nod to the Denham._

"_Appreciate it," he said, and he director could see the man was genuinely thankful. _

_Gratitude was a rare commodity in this day and age. He should know. Hell, if it weren't for him, the world would __**NEVER**__ have even heard of Kong or Skull Island! And where were his thanks? His praise? Sure, the situation may have gotten out of hand, but that wasn't __**his **__fault! He was no criminal! He was the victim in this whole mess! Perhaps if Ann would just have agreed to perform alongside the ape, she could have kept him calm. Maybe if he was provided with the correct amount of sedatives, he could have kept the ape docile. He wasn't to blame! He did all that he could, but the world never sees it his way…the right way._

_Skulking in his cell, Denham bitterly wondered how things might have turned out. What could have been? What if Kong never got loose? What if he never brought him to the city? What if they never even made it to Skull Island? He would have lost everything! Not just him, but those he owed as well. Couldn't they see? He was doing this for them! _

_An hour passed, but the panic never died down. Kong was still on the loose. He was as good as dead by now anyways. In the midst of the mayhem, he was too volatile to risk an attempt at recapturing him. And after this little stunt, the public would undoubtedly call for him to be put down! _

"_A penny for your thoughts, Mr. Denham?" _

_Carl looked up, and beyond the bars of his cell stood a man he never met before. He could tell he was rich, or at least he appeared to be the sort that moved within the inner circles of the rich and powerful. The way he seemed to carry himself made him seem dignified. _

"_Or perhaps a dollar, given your situation," the stranger continued, his green eyes staring straight into the director's eyes, almost his very soul. He had a piercing gaze, it seemed to imply the wisdom of the ages._

"_A few million might do better good," Carl retorted. He glanced over and saw the homeless man with his coat fast asleep. He probably intentionally got locked up in here for a warm place to sleep. _

_A small chuckle came from the stranger, "Indeed. You are in quite a bind, sir. But you have but yourself to blame."_

_Denham's eyes narrowed, "Look, old man. I'm not in the mood for a lecture, so if you don't mind, the door's behind you. Don't let it hit you on the way out."_

_But the man did not move. Instead, he cleared his throat, "'He who sacrifices his conscience to ambition, burns a picture to obtain the ashes', or so the proverb goes."_

_What the hell did that even mean? _

"_Who in God's name are you?" Carl asked suspiciously. "My damn fortune cookie?"_

"_You mean you haven't figured that out?" the stranger questioned with raised brows. "You're lack of perception does you little credit."_

_And then it dawned on him. "Cunningham?"_

_A small smile appeared on the old man's face. "Indeed I am."_

_The director was on his feet so fast, his head felt dizzy. Gripping the bars with a vice-grip, his eyes widened._

"_You're the one that lady told me to contact!" he exclaimed. "What the hell do you think you're doing? Stage a big manhunt for the Eighth Wonder of the World all so you could take away what I nearly sacrificed my entire career on! Who the hell do you think you-"_

"_Stage the hunt?" the he chuckled. "Your little blunder was more than enough to land you in such a tight spot. I and those who I represent are merely here to clean up your little mess. I come to you merely with an offer."_

_The grip on the bars tightened. His knuckles were nearly white, "He's mine, you hear me! Kong is not for sale! I don't know what you're deal is, but he is __**not**__ for sale!"_

_Little expression registered on Cunningham's face, aside from the small hint of amusement he seemed to gather from the director's predicament. _

"_Given the circumstances, Mr. Denham," he stated smoothly, "there is hardly even a remote chance you can salvage what's left of your reputation. What makes you conceive the idea that you have any say in the matter?"_

"_Kong is __**mine**__, you son of a bitch," Denham snarled. "I staked my entire future on this debacle. You so much as try and take him, dead or alive, and I will __**bury**__ you! You got that!"_

_Denham was hardly in the position to negotiate any hope of salvaging his dreams, but that seemed to have little effect on him. In fact, it was quite the opposite. Cunningham could see the passion burning in his eyes. Not for Kong, by any means. Nor for the lives lost at Skull Island all thanks to him. While Denham could hope to justify his purpose, it didn't change the facts. People were dead, all because of his ambition. Not just those lost on the island, but the lives Kong took in the city as well. In his attempt to dominate the heart of the unknown…he only succeeded in unleashing its wrath upon a world not willing to accept things they could never hope to comprehend._

_Cunningham couldn't help but find it admirable that a man who has lost everything he values still possessed the tenacity he displayed. _

"_You're willpower is admirable," Cunningham admitted. "But the damage is done, ."_

_Handing a rather hefty envelope, the Englishman stood outside his steel pen with a rather smug look tugging at the corner of his lips. Denham hesitated for a second, his hand trembling. A gut-wrenching twist tore his insides, and felt the small dread of knowing the contents of the envelope._

"_These documents will ensure you are fully reimbursed and the charges that will inevitably render you destitute will be dropped," the continued. "On the condition that you relinquish all rights of the ape to Marshall Industries."_

_Denham slowly opened the envelope, his heart beat the only thing he could truly hear. His eyes rested on the various documents before him. Most of it was entirely legal documentations and court waivers to reduce the repercussions of the evening. He glanced from the paperwork to the man before him, who held out a rather fine pen to allow him to sign the forms. _

_For a second, Denham forgot to breath. His throat felt dry, his hands all clammy and shaky. What was he to do? He gave up everything he possibly had on the impression that no mistakes would be made. Could he have truly been so blind? _

_The tip of the pen reached the paper, but he hesitated another second and looked to Cunningham, "Why are you doing this? What could you possibly have to gain from this?"_

_Cunningham did not reply immediately, but after a moment of silence he sighed, "The true measure of a man is reflected in that which he pursues. If all you understand is profit, Mr. Denham, than you'll never truly see the grander scheme of things."_

_Pondering his words in defeated silence, Denham took another extended glance at the paperwork. His hands trembled as the tip of the pen touched the surface. Was it all for nothing? Did fate simply mock him by granting his wish, only to be crushed and humiliated in the end? How could it have come to this? _

_Swallowing what little ounce of dignity he had, the ruined director scribbled his name in the designated area. Handing it back to the old man, he felt his spirit die._

"_I…I never meant for this to happen…I didn't want anyone to get hurt…or killed," he said aloud, mostly to himself. "I just…"_

"_I'm a businessman, Mr. Denham," Cunningham stated coldly, "not a priest. Your sins are your own business."_

_Without a single word, the strange old man wheeled around and disappeared beyond the corner of the cell block, leaving Denham with an empty pit in his stomach. Like he had made some bet with the devil that now came to collect on his dues. _


	8. Cold Winds Rising

Chapter 8

Will Englehorn stood in the back room of the wheelhouse, cigarette between his lips as his blue eyes scanned the charts of Atlantic currents and weather maps. Even though he was alone, the majority of his crew either sleeping, eating their dinner, or working on the decks were well away from his work area. To be honest, he was rather content with that. Despite the occasional deck hand working the radio, the German was rather well adjusted to working entirely on his own. With Hayes as his First Mate, he was content to allow him to handle the majority of the more personal supervision to allow himself some sense of privacy. Working alone was far more self satisfactory than most people gave it credit for. Sure, he wasn't a total loner. On more than one occasion, he went out for drinks with Hayes, Lumpy, and Choy, but when it came to actual work, he felt more competent….maybe more in control, if he was by himself.

Perhaps that's why his military career was rather short lived. It was a little ironic even. He grew up in a particularly overbearing environment, what with both his father and grandfather having served in the military all their lives. It wasn't that his own work in the armed forces wasn't fruitful or lacked its own excitement. He supposed that, well since his own childhood was spent under the constant tyrannical rule of his father, Will just had this instant distaste for authority. And now he was one, comically enough.

A knock at the entrance caught his attention and Englehorn turned around, a little surprised but then again he was rather focused on the charts before him. Seeing Hayes, he nodded for his First Mate to step forward as he ashed his cigarette.

Seeing Hayes' s expression, his eyes narrowed, "What is it?"

"We might have a problem," Hayes said with a heavy sigh. Folding his arms, the Captain could see the seriousness of the situation in his face.

_'That's all we need,'_ Englehorn thought .

"I'm listening."

Sitting in the cargo hold next to the slumbering beast, Ashe watched in silence as Kong's chest rose and fell with ease passing breath. The chloroform was more than effective in keeping him unconscious. Having spent much of the past few days down here with him, she soon began to wonder what he was dreaming of. Did he dream of home? Of Ann? Kong was no mere animal, at least not in her eyes. He possessed a heightened sense of understanding that even most humans lacked. It was the humanity in him that Ashe found so intriguing.

Leaning against one the wall of the hold, she was seated in a patch of warm straw as she felt the waves of the sea rock the ship to and fro. She had learned from Jimmy that they were expected to run into a bad storm in the next few hours. Earlier that morning she saw the dark clouds looming on the horizon. From what information she gathered, it was expected to possess hurricane strength winds strong enough to make even Hayes and Lumpy a little hesitant.

However, it wasn't the storm that lingered in Ashe's mind day and night since she received that phone call from Cunningham so long ago.

_"The Syndicate is back, Ashe"_, she recalled the old man's voice. She felt a gnawing in her gut that froze her very core. Ashe could tell in his tone this was no coy con to reel her back into a life she had long since abandoned.

She could only hope that they were wrong. Five years was a long time…but not long enough to forget about Skull Island. The only solace Ashe could muster from this current predicament was that their destination was not that godforsaken rock. She had long since come to terms with her sins, even if she was too cowardly to face them. Maybe Cunningham was right, at least when it came to her inability to face the past.

Her fingers fiddled with a small silver locket idly as she listened to the ape's deep rumblings of sleep when suddenly she heard the slightest bit of noise from the entrance. The footsteps were so quiet, most people would hardly even notice it.

"Back again, I see," Ashe spoke aloud without even looking back. The footsteps paused for a moment out of a mixture of hesitation and surprise before Ann Darrow stepped forward from the shadows.

"I'm sorry," she replied apologetically. "I wasn't prying, I just came to-"

"Check on the ape," Ashe interrupted. "I know, it's alright."

"You seem troubled, Ashe," the actress said, coming forward to take a seat next to her. Ashe looked to the fair haired beauty and shrugged.

"Just thinking of old times," she mused aloud.

"Bad memories?" Ann asked as she sat down.

Ashe replied with a slight shrug. The blonde looked to Kong quietly for a moment before she said, "I didn't take you for someone whose thoughts linger too often on the past. Looking up to her as she put the locket in her pockets, Ashe's expression seemed confused. Ann noticed her look and smiled sheepishly.

"Well…what I meant was…you seem so…" she struggled, as if the actress who can recite the most delicate and complicated soliloquies with ease, was attempting to find the right words, "I dunno….strong? Or…well, maybe just you act so confident, like you've got everything figured out. Do…you know what I mean?"

A small pause passed then suddenly, a chuckled erupted from Ashe that nearly startled Ann. Her amusement at her attempt at a compliment caught her off guard.

Ashe managed to garner up enough composure to spit out, "Sorry…It's not you….it's just…" She laughed again, "That's the first time someone has given me that much credit."

Ann found herself giggling as well, thinking out silly her pass at flattery was. But regardless of how poorly she said it, she did in fact mean it. Ashe was unlike anyone she ever met before. How she carried herself, how she spoke so directly as if she cared less who she was speaking to….they were just traits the actress was so unaccustomed to…and being in show business, that in itself was a stretch.

"Well," Ann said between giggles, "It's true. I mean…not that many people, especially women, are as independent or so…blunt…as you. You see that, right?"

After gaining more control, Ashe leaned back against the wall again, lighting up another a cigarette. She took a drag, then said, "It's funny you of all people should seem so surprised."

"I'm an actress, " she said as-a-matter-of-factly. "It takes a lot to surprise me."

Looking to Kong, Ashe smirked, "My point exactly."

She followed her gaze, her eyes settling on the sleeping giant. It was quiet for a while before she spoke up. "He likes it when you sing to him."

"Hm?" Ashe asked between drags.

"Kong," she specified. "He sleeps better when you sing to him."

"How did you…."

"Choy," Ann answered. "He said he heard you sing to him not too long ago. I think some of the sailors onboard mentioned you sang as a few speakeasies on the dock.

"Ah," Ashe said. "Well…whatever pays the bills."

"Umm…Ashe…is it okay if I ask, where you learned to sing?" she asked, a bit of hesitance in her tone. "Did you get it from anyone in your family?"

Silence was the immediate response, and Ann wondered if maybe it was a touchy topic. She looked to Ashe to get a read on her thoughts from her expression. She appeared pensive, almost to the point of being solemn. She wished she kicked herself before blurting out such a sensitive question. It was obvious that Ashe made little conversation about her past, especially her family. But Ann could hardly criticize. It took Jack weeks to get her to open up about her own personal history.

"I'm sorry…" she said finally. "I didn't mean to pry…."

"It's alright," Ashe said finally, taking a hit from the tobacco. "It's a fair enough question. "

Ann shook her head, "If you don't wanna talk about it, I under-"

"It's just…I'm not really accustomed to it. It's not your fault, so don't apologize."

"I see…well…then nevermind," Ann never felt so guilty…well, she had, but…it still didn't make her conscience any lighter.

The two continued to sit there for the longest time, each watching Kong sleep as his massive chest rose and fell systematically. Ashe had long since finished her cigarette, but she made no move to light another. Despite her insensitive prying, it wasn't awkward just to sit there without speaking. It was if they came to an understanding that looking into the past was hard…and never easy to speak about. After what seemed like hours, Ann finally rose to her feet.

"Well," she said as she stood, "Dinner is nearly ready. I'm sure Jack will be wondering where I'm at."

Ashe nodded but didn't respond verbally. Her gaze still rested on Kong. Sensing the woman might have little, if anything, further to add, she nodded quietly then turned and headed towards the exit.

"My mother," Ashe said suddenly. Ann turned, confused, but she continued speaking with her eyes still set on the ape. "My mother used to sing. I guess I picked it up from her."

The blonde's face lit up with a quiet, small smile. She wasn't sure why…but learning that made her feel closer to Ashe. "I imagine her voice was just as lovely as yours."

Turning, she exited the cargo hold yet Ashe remained still as ever. Her own expression was nearly incapable of being read, but if someone were to get a good look in her eyes, they would probably sense the dulling pain of regret and bitterness reflected in the irises.

"No….she was better," Ashe added in a solemn, hushed tone beneath her breath. With a heavy sigh, she looked up at the ceiling. There was a pit in her stomach that told her this journey would reopen old wounds she prayed could only be forgotten. But fate, if it ever existed, was not always on her side. And she knew such a prayer would never be answered.

Jack was waiting casually in the room, when Ann walked through the door. Sitting on the bed, he was just finishing writing some more ideas for a play he had imagined Ann would no doubt adore. It was hard not to appreciate the anxiety that swelled within him each time he wrote a new story. In truth, it was his attempt to please and impress the actress who stole his heart. However it was invigorating how she somehow manage to inspire and simultaneously challenge him to improve with each and every script he writes into reality.

"I'm sorry," she said softly as she entered. "I didn't mean to keep you waiting."

"No," he greeted her warmly. "I was just-"

"Writing," she smiled as she sat beside him, "I know. How's it going?"

"Good as ever. I have a muse now after all."

"Flattery? Well, a girl could certainly get used it."

Jack looked at her peculiarly, "You seem awfully cheery? What's got you in such a good mood?"

Ann gave a small laugh as she cuddled next to Jack, "I dunno. Just…speaking with Ashe, I guess it's just I-"

"Ah…..Ashe. And what did Miss coy-and-utterly-evasive have to say? Anything that makes this trip any less fishy?"

Ann gave him a cool, irritated look, "Don't be so hard on her. She's not as bad as you think."

"I just don't like not being given the full details. Look where it landed us the last time we were on this ship," he said defensively.

"Well," the blonde said as she closed the difference between him, "We met. It wasn't all that bad."

Jack rubbed his head timorously, setting aside his pen and paper, "True. But that's the only benefit I really see. Getting nearly eaten by or trampled by the native fauna…or the ceremonial sacrifice by the lovely natives hardly made it an ideal vacati-"

The actress chuckled softly," All right, all right. I see your point…All I'm saying is….Ashe isn't a bad person. I don't know what her role in all this is….I doubt even she knows to be honest. I do know…just from how she talks and acts…she doesn't want to be here anymore than the rest of us…but she is here. I think that…for whatever reason…she's here for some sense of closure. I know the feeling."

The writer sighed heavily, rising to his feet anxiously, "I know. I mean…it's not like I think she's some villainous, self-serving witch whose only here on some secret corporate mission but-"

Ann laughed, "You have had your nose in a book for far too long. You're reading too much into it."

His temperament somewhat humbled, Jack chuckled a little abash, "You know what I mean, Ann. She won't, or can't, tell us the full plan. I don't like it when I know there's some underlying scheme beneath the surface. It's not fair! We aren't pawns!"

"Even if we were," she added, trying her best not to ruffle his feathers, "You really think someone like Ashe is keen on the idea either?"

"What do any of us know about her?" he retorted. "Hell, what do any of us know about Cunningham or Marshall Industries? Rumors? What good does that do us. If this trip goes south, we're the ones who end up with the aftermath."

"Jack-….please."

"Ann," he cut in. "Look, I'm not saying she's a bad person. I just…don't know what her role in all of this either. I don't even know what our role is…It's…well I don't want to see you hurt. In any way! You mean to much to me to just overlook these things."

Ann rose from the bed and stood behind Jack. Wrapping her arms around his waist, his hands folded over hers.

"Jack, regardless of what Cunningham or Ashe or this 'Marshall Industries' have to do with this….they promised that Kong would be kept safe in a place where he won't be bothered. It's my fault after all-"

"Ann-" Jack started but her hold on him tightened.

"No, let me finish. Listen, please! You know I care about you. But Kong is in this because he was trying to protect me. He's all alone. I gave him more understanding than he knew existed. People look at him and all they see is a monster. All his life, he was treated differently. I'm not saying he is a human being but he has some sense of humanity in his heart! He risked his own life to protect me more times than I can count."

The writer's rising temper seemed to cool off as his companion added, "I'm not saying I don't have any doubts about this….but for Kong's sake, I'm more than willing to take a little leap of faith…because face it, Jack, that's all we have left. I don't know her…but Ashe is just as wary as the rest of us."

"What makes you so sure? "he asked after a deep breath.

Looking out the small port hole that acted as a window, Ann sighed, "Maybe it's women's intuition….maybe it's just me trying to see the good in people…I'm not sure. But I can feel it, Jack. This is a road we all have to tread, even if we don't want to."

Walking over to her, he grasped her hand in his, "What makes you so sure we can put our faith in her?"

The vaudevillian shrugged, "I'm not. But that's faith, right? Proof is…well… we can't have proof if we go on faith. Kinda defeats the purpose, you know?"

"I just don't want to risk losing you."

"I swear….you never will…"

It had been a few hours since Ashe last saw Ann. No doubt she had already had dinner and was probably in bed with Jack. The envy of her relationship was hard even for her to ignore. It had little to do with Jack. Personally, the lean, grounded bookworm was hardly her type…if she even had a type. But what she envied was the companionship.

She could barely recall the days before her work with the Order. Granted, she was nine so chances are, even if she could remember…what was there to remember?

Her thoughts continued to dwell on the latest conversation she had with Ann. It dumfounded her how she failed to respond to the actress's question. Usually, she was capable of maintaining a vivid, if somewhat fictional account of her past. Perhaps her years of inactivity made her soft, more uncertain. It nearly made her ashamed. She was far too rusty. There was a time when it came to passing a con off as the truth came as naturally as breathing. With so many aliases and backgrounds to fall back on, this was no time to slip up.

And if the Syndicate had genuinely resurfaced…her lack of professionalism was sure to come back and bite her in the ass.

Still… how could it have come to this. It took everything she had to bring it down….and still, it haunts her every waking moment. All that Ashe sacrificed to ensure a brighter tomorrow for this world…was it ever really worth it? Somehow, feeling cheated was an understatement . What could possibly provoke the Order to rehire her? She hated cleaning up her own messes…let alone the messes of other. In hindsight, maybe this was her mess. Destiny is a little fickle that way. Which made her hate it all the more.

"You haven't been down the galley?" a voice spoke from the shadows, making Ashe nearly jump out of her skin. She recognized the thick accent. She turned and low and behold, there stood the Captain.

"Damn, I must be getting rusty," she thought to herself. There was a time when she could sense someone's presence within moments of their entrance. Seeing Englehorn made her relax her defensive instincts, if only a little.

"You keep sneaking up on me, I'm gonna make you wear a bell. And besides, don't you have a ship to run?" she asked irritably

"You seem a little tense," he chuckled. "Nervous about the storm."

Ashe smiled, taking out her flask from her pocket before taking a quick sip, "I've weathered worse. Besides, the whisky helps dull any sense of foreboding."

"Really now?" Englehorn stepped closer.

"Well…in theory," Ashe added with a coy smirk.

The German finally came to a stop only a few feet away from Kong, dressed in his usual attire which was composed of a wrinkled navy shirt, his large overcoat, and essential captain's cap. He paused for a moment before lighting one of his cigarettes.

"Singing a lullaby?" he asked.

"Not in that sort of mood, I guess."

"What language would sing in if you were, I wonder," he wondered aloud.

"Depends on the mood. Why do you ask?" she added, rising to her feet.

"I just find myself curious to learn what languages you know."

Ashe laughed, "You could always ask."

Will Englehorn glanced at her, "Would you give me an honest answer?"

"Even if I were…would you really believe me?" she smiled as she now stood by his side. When he didn't respond, she smirked, "I thought as much. I'd say you were a fool if you did."

"Like you would really believe I'm anything less after what happened at the island," the Captain replied with a heavy sigh.

Ashe took a breath, lighting up a cigarette as stood even closer to Kong. Placing a steady hand on his head, her eyes stayed focus on his form while she spoke. "Oh, no, you were definitely a fool then…but I'm hardly in any position to lecture."

"Meaning?"

"Meaning….well…human is as human does. You just have to remember the flaws aren't what define you…just how to make amends for them, I guess."

The Captain stepped forward, "You seem so certain. What are you doing to make up for yours?"

Ashe was quiet for a moment before she replied, "I'm here…aren't I? I like to think that's enough."

"Is it?" he pressed.

Still focused on Kong, she shook her head, "I suppose….time will tell. Personally, as long as you and yours make it through alright…I might just have paid my own dues."

Will looked at her, concern and confusion were mixed in his icy blue eyes, "You make it seem so easy."

Seeing Kong's soothing slumber, Ashe took a drag. "In theory, anything can sound easy. Guess we'll find out." Putting her cigarette out and casting it aside, she turned to Englehorn, "So…small talk aside, what can I do for you?"

Folding his arms as he leaned against the opposite wall, he gave a small smile. Indeed she was perceptive. But the past few days he'd been noticing a few..well, peculiar occurences. Something on his ship was making him uneasy.

"There have been a few setbacks recently. Hayes came to me this morning and told me of some mishaps and odd occurrences," he said. "A few things are going missing- tools, coals, even some food and water. Also, some equipment appears to be tampered with."

"Straight the point," she said. She noticed his folded arms, definitely a defensive stance. She saw where this was headed. "So, you think sabotage?"

"Don't you?" he asked, eyeing her closely.

Staring back with cool, tempered demeanor, Ashe shrugged, "What reason would anyone have to spoil this little picnic?"

Taking a step forward, his gaze still fixated on her, "You tell me."

"You think I'm the saboteur?" she scoffed, Seeing the seriousness in his expression, her cleared her throat and nodded, "Yeah, I can see where I'm the likely suspect. I'm hardly the most forthcoming and my own moral compass doesn't always point due North…."

"You're not making the most solid case in your defense."

"Because I didn't do it, any of it. Well…I may have made a few midnight snack runs but I always gave Lumpy or Choy a head's up so-"

Englehorn sighed, irritably interrupted, "If not you, then who?"

Ashe suddenly sat up straightly, her eyes less focused as her mind seemed to wander, "Wait...I know...," She stopped as suddenly as she started and looked to the Captain. Rolling her eyes, she shrugged, "Sorry, my mistake...my clairvoyance seems to be a little off today." Her little joke seemed to have little effect on Will's demeanor...well, maybe the slightest hint of irritation but little else.

Smirking, she shrugged, "I dunno, one of the dozens of men on your crew perhaps?"

"Mr. Hayes hired all of them personally. He chose them specifically because he knew without a doubt they were reliable. I trust his judgment."

"You trusted Denham to pay you for your last little voyage. That turned out so very well," she shot back coolly.

The drop in temperature in the room was no doubt unnoticeable. Both of them had their gazes locked onto one another, as if studying one another to see what was being held back. Ashe could see the struggle in his blue irises. He was onbiously conflicted, but he did seem to genuinely want to trust her. Which, honestly was a little odd for her to see. Not in his case, per say. Just…well, in every case. But in her line of work, honesty is hardly the best policy.

With a deep breath and nostrils flaring to express his irritation, Will's eyes averted to anywhere but her, "Do you or do you not know who is behind it?"

"No."

Neither had timed to moments of awkward silence that passed between the two, and with the atmospheric distrust lingering in the air it was hard to think of what next to say. Finally, it was the Captain who took the high ground and continued.

"Does this have something to do with the ape?"

"I wouldn't rule it out," Ashe said, looking the slumbering primate. Though the very thought made her doubtful. It's an obvious decoy for some underlying plan. Sabotage of any category is an act that depends on immediate results or action. Not necessarily in all instances, but sabotage on a ship, especially one at sea, usually implies that those responsible that are intent on the full function of that ship are to not be carried out. That duty on this specific little picnic would be the relocation of Kong…at least to her knowledge it would be. Though in retrospect, the Order has hardly been very generous with revealing all of their plans, even on her more dangerous assignments. Information comes on a strictly need-to-know basis and if the job can be done with as little oversharing as possible, then so be it.

However, since Kong was the guest of honor on this trip, any act of malice would be logically perceived as an act to hinder the ape's relocation. Though Ashe felt Kong was not necessarily the target in mind but rather collateral damages that are subjected to on any given assignment. That damage in mind would be the Venture and its crew, at least in immediate terms.

His eyes returned to her, "What else would it be about?"

Facing him, she answered, "What do you think it might about?" It was too premature to voice her suspicions. There was little need to stir up more trouble with early guesses.

"Don't answer my question with a damn question," Will said, his patience wearing thin.

"Don't ask questions I don't know the answer to then," she rebounded instantly, quick as can be. She observed as the Captain's jaw tightened and his brows furrowed. He took a few more steps closer, standing mere inches away from her. Even so, Ashe stood her ground, her own eyes reflected a hint of defiance. She never backed down from anything, and he could see that willpower staring straight at him. With the distance between them short, each could see more distinguishing physical features of the other. Both carried the faint scent of tobacco, in their clothes and hair. He could smell the smallest ounce of whiskey on her breath while he smelled like the salty sea air from above deck.

"You're trying my patience, Miss Ashe," he warned.

"I have that effect on others, I'm told, "her voice was well composed, much like her posture. There wasn't the smallest hint that she was intimidated at all. In fact, it seemed quite the opposite. A small spark was glowing in her cool gaze that implied she was getting a rise out of his attempt to rile her.

Much like earlier, both stood their ground, staring at each other with unyielding force of will. Englehorn never came across that many people who got under his skin the way she was. She showed such disrespect for his authority and on his ship no less. Her know-it-all attitude and smug comments made his tolerance of her presence nearly as annoying as Denham.

"If I find so much as one ounce of proof you're involved," he broke the silence, "I'm throwing you overboard."

A tug at the corner of her lips formed a smirk, "I would like to see you try."

Knowing this was going nowhere, the Captain took a deep breath, catching a whiff of lavender. It must have been her perfume or shampoo. Trying to let what anger was rising cool off, he wheeled around and made his way to the door. He stopped for a moment and glanced over his shoulder.

"Don't try anything," he said, his tone still threatening, "I'm watching you."

Cocking her head to the side she chuckled, "Like I said, I'm putting a bell on you like a ferret." Huffing in frustration, the Captain turned back and continued to leave. She watched him until he was gone then turned back to the ape.

"I don't think you have to worry, boy," she sighed. "Somehow I don't think you're the target in all of this." That only left one other possibility. The Syndicate was involved, and likely had infiltrated the ship. If Cunningham was right, then there was definitely going to be trouble if they stepped onto the playing field. Ashe knew this was a game she might not win.

.


	9. All In Good Fun

Chapter 9

It was fairly crowded in the galley not long after dinner, filled with the majority of the deckhands surrounding the table. Cigar and cigarette smoke hung in the air as all eyes focused intently on the three people before them- Ashe and two of the sailors, named Doyle and McGarry respectively. In the center of the table was a particularly large sum of money, well large enough to bet for a few old seadogs with a limited income. Thus far, this game had racked up the most money. Over the past few weeks, Ashe had made a point to challenge whoever among the crew was up to it to small game of poker. It was a surprise to most, seeing as to how she had such little contact with most of those onboard. However, the bigger surprise was to how well she was doing.

Within each player's hands was a small selection of cards. Lumpy served as the dealer and had the crowd of spectators stand far enough away so they couldn't see what the three were holding so they would be less likely to give away any hints. As per usual, Ashe remained well composed. Her facial expression was nigh impossible to read, which allowed her not to tip off her opponents. To the untrained eye, it would seem both Doyle and McGarry were as unreadable as Ashe. However, she was able to discreetly take the occasional glance from her cards to the two to take notice of even the slightest detail of their features. Given how few chips they had left in comparison to Ashe, it was understandable that their confidence was beginning to slip.

She was able to surmise that Doyle was growing more desperate with each hand. Overall, she was actually quite impressed with how he managed to stay in the game. It wasn't entirely luck, she'd admit. Even so, the small drops of sweat forming above his brow became more prominent as his jaw tightened with each glance to the pot. His largest chip was rolling in one of his hands anxiously. McGarry, on the other hand, was like a rock. At least compared to Doyle. Still, Ashe kept him locked in her sights for the smallest sign of emotion. Luckily, she was able to keep her observations to herself.

Stepping into the galley, Preston couldn't help but wonder what the commotion was all about. He missed dinner earlier but had decided to stop by for a small midnight snack and maybe a drink. Adjusting his glasses, he moved a bit closer until he finally caught a glimpse of the game in play at the table. It was a card game, but not one he was familiar with. His father had repeatedly tried to teach him, what with his love of gambling. But Preston never really picked up the knack for it much his father's chagrin. Even so, that didn't mean he couldn't enjoy watching the occasional game or two.

Stepping between Choy, Jack, and Jimmy who were at the front of the crowd, he asked, "What's all this?"

"Poker game," Jimmy replied as his eyes remain locked on the game." Texas Hold 'Em. So far it's down to these three. "

"They got big pot," Choy added in his broken English, "Lot of money."

An indignant scoff caught Preston's attention. Looking behind him was Bruce Baxter who commented begrudgingly, "Damn well should be. Cleaned me out quicker than Lumpy could sell out his own mother."

"Hey, now," Lumpy spoke up in his defense and lifted one of his cleavers. " Never bring up my mum. I don't take kindly to it."

"Now, now, Lumpy," Ashe interjected without looking up. "He's just mad cause his ability to bluff is on par with his acting skills."

A few laughs and chuckles were attempted to be suppressed by the audience, but they failed miserably. Even Preston couldn't help but have a small smile at the rather accurate comparison. Bruce, however, was clearly not amused. Folding his arms across his chest, his jaw tightened, "Now what the hell does that mean."

"Nothing really, " Ashe commented as she took a drag from her cigarette and sipped on the glass of whiskey before her. "Just a little room for improvement is all. Oh, and don't be so defensive."

Bruce straightened up, his brows furrowed, "I'm not being defensive."

"Arms folded across the chest, " she responded. "Obvious tell for someone insecure."

Instantly dropping his arms to his side and stuffing his hands into his pockets Bruce huffed, "Give me a break, that doesn't mean anything!"

"Hands in pockets, " Ashe smirked without missing a beat, "Implies a your secretive, possibly lying. Which means you're just lacking the inclination to communicate."

"That's nonsense, a load of bull." Bruce began to shift his stance uneasily.

"Afraid not, Baxter. Excessive blinking, lips pursed yet accompanied by the occasional modest closed-lip smile to cover the insecurity reflected in your demeanor are pretty spot on," she responded. "Added to your adam's apple jumping like a hyped up rabbit showing a hint of embarrassment and the occasional instant where you scratch your ears to imply a growing lack of confidence _and _your nostrils flaring displaying your plausible irritation, reading you is easier than a kid's picture book."

With her observations of the flamboyant actor said allowed, it was natural for a few members in the audience to take a closer look at him in an attempt to see if what Ashe was saying was true. Much to her own amusement, it seemed to crawl under Bruce's skin in just the right way.

"Whatever, " Baxter growled and started walking away. "I got better things to do."

"Hope it's practicing your skills for your acting career, " she chuckled, taking a drag. He stopped and gave her a cruel glare. Looking up for the first time, even through her observational rant, she smiled gleefully, "Just friendly advice."

The actor wheeled back around and continued to storm out of the galley, muttered a few insults that revealed just how much of a sailor's mouth he'd inherited from his time on this ship. A few glanced at him as he left but most returned their focus to the game.

"That was a bit harsh, don't you think?" Driscoll said finally.

Giving a dismissive shrug, Ashe replied, "Ah he'll eventually grow a pair and get over it. Not like I said anything untrue. "

"You weren't even looking at him the whole time," he shot back. Jack found himself a little surprised he was defending Baxter of all people, but he didn't retract his opinion.

"No, you just didn't _see_ me looking. Not that I'd need to with him, I must admit. Still amusing. He just needs to learn to take at least a wee bit of criticism with a stronger air of dignity."

"And are you reading us, sweetheart?" Doyle added, his Irish accent mixed with a small ounce of Australian.

"Just as you both are reading me. Difference is I'm just better at it than you," she smiled. She'd let the 'sweetheart' comment slide this once given she is about to play them for all they're worth. "Poker is, by its very nature, more than a game of chance. It's a battle of wits. The key to winning- knowing your opponents better than they do."

"I think you underestimate our card skills," McGarry added, glancing up to Ashe. His accent was similar to Doyle's but it was more prominent. He was in his rough fifties it would seem, his facial features practically shouted veteran sailor. Doyle on the other hand was younger than her, but not by much.

"Quite the opposite. You both simply overestimate yourself," she sighed. McGarry didn't seem much amused, but he stayed quite.

Jimmy smiled as he spoke up, "I dunno Ashe. They're the best players on the ship."

"Then I suggest you get out more," she quipped.

Lumpy cleared his throat, taking the occasional puff at the hand wrapped cigar, "Alright you lot. Final bet. Show your cards."

It was Doyle who was first in the rotation. He was still grasping his highest chip, but in truth he had so few it wouldn't really matter. Taking a deep breath, he glanced from his cards to the to the pile of money before him. He looked back to his chip then lifted his head up to see Ashe staring at him intently. She could see a faint gulp and her eyes seemed to study him like a tiger staring at its prey. Grinding his teeth together, he took a deep breath before finally placing his cards face down.

"Fold," he said in defeat. And he was none too happy about it.

It was McGarry's turn. Looking at his chips to the money, he seemed pensive for a moment before he , too, set his cards down. "Fold," he growled. Groans were heard from the audience.

Finally it was Ashe's turn, and all eyes locked in on her. The anxiety in the crowd was building. Even though they were playing themselves, it didn't mean they weren't free to place their own friendly wages on who would win. Judging from the reaction in the crowd, McGarry was the favorite to win.

A minute passes, the anticipation nearly unbearable. Finally she sighed and rose to her feet. Figuring she had nothing to lose, she showed her hand. The best she had was two pairs of five's. The sight of such a strong bluff on such a poor hand got a surprised reaction from the crowd, most of them were gestures of disappointment. Even her opponents were obviously humiliated they fell for it.

"Very well then," Lumpy said. "And the Lady Luck herself wins again."

Pushing the pile of money to her from the center of the table, she shook her head dismissively. "Nah, that won't be necessary. I don't want it." Both Doyle and McGarry glanced at one another before looking to Ashe.

"But….you _won_ the game," Doyle stated in disbelief.

"Yeah, well, I just have a good poker face," she said modestly. "And let's face it. McGarry could have one easily with his hand. You were pretty close though too."

"And how do you know that, may I ask?" McGarry growled.

"Oh, I cheated," Ashe replied with a care-free shrug and a slap-stick smile. "You had a solid Four-of-a-kind hand of eights with an Ace to boot. And you, Doyle, had a solid Flush."

Both men rose to their feet. McGarry stepped forward threateningly, "You cheated? "

She chuckled in amusement, "Yeah, sorry. Old habits. But kudos to you both. You are quite good at this game. Too bad I'm better."

"But…but how did you-" Doyle started.

"Like I said, old habits," Ashe responded before making her way through the disbelieving crowd. Before leaving, she handed Lumpy a folded piece of paper. He looked from it to her with a quizzical expression. She explained, "That's a record of all the people I played and how much they started with. Would you be so kind to give them back their money." It was hard not to notice the little pep in her state whistling nonchalantly as disappeared around through the door. Bewilderment had taken hold over the crowd. Considering how many bets were made on who one, the issue of who wins any money might become a little debatable. Having served as a mediator, Lumpy took it upon himself to simply divide the pot between Doyle and McGarry. Doyle seemed thoroughly pleased that he was just able to get back what money he lost and then some. McGarry, on the other hand, was hardly pleased with the outcome of events. His eyes were locked on the Ashe as she left. Lumpy cleared his throat to get his attention, which was successful even if all the disgraced sailor did was grab his winnings begrudgingly and storm off through the doorway in a hurry. He made the occasional glance at the men willing to look him in the eye at their own risk, and the gaze he returned was practically daring them to say something, anything. Once he was gone, the crowd soon began to thin out as the fun was over and the sailors on duty went on with their work before they were caught slacking for a simple card game.

Eventually, the only people remaining behind were Jack, Preston, Jimmy, Lumpy, and Choy. The latter two started to straighten up the room as Jimmy gave a short, amused laugh, "Boy, she sure pissed some people off. Especially McGarry. Never seen that guy so mad."

"Being cheating oughta do to that to ya," Jack said in contempt. He clearly thought her cheap tricks didn't exactly speak well for her character, he still couldn't help to be impressed.

"Oh, c'mon," the boy said in her defense," it's not like she took the money. She was just having some fun."

"You think you'd feel the same if she was playing you?" Jack shot back. Jimmy rolled his eyes before turning away and leaving. The writer smirked, "Yeah, didn't think so."

Watching Preston leave, his own facial expression seemed a little lost, "I'm confused. If she didn't play for the money then why bother? For kicks?"

"You'd be surprised what you'd learn from folks playing a good 'ole game of cards," Lumpy spoke up from the kitchen. Both Jack and Preston looked to him, surprised he would have any idea what just happened, before looking to each other.

"I have a feeling what she was doing had little to do with the game at all," Driscoll said cynically. Denham's former assistant expressed a bemused frown as the writer than made his own exit.

"Seems Shakespeare there has a knack for pointing out the obvious," Lumpy mumbled to himself as he cleaned up. Preston returned his gaze to him.

"I don't get it," he confessed, feeling completely lost at what they could possibly be implying.

Choy and Lumpy exchanged an odd look before the china man spoke as he cleaned the tables, "Ashe play game for information, not money. "

"Information on _what_?" Preston's tone seemed hesitant. What was really going on?

"I suspect we'll be learnin' soon enough," the cook replied. Preston stood there quietly for a few seconds, still as bewildered as ever before shaking his head in utter frustration and leaving. He lost his appetite from…well whatever just happened.

When Preston left the galley, Choy to looked to Lumpy who nodded, "Best go tell the Captain." The small Asian nodded curtly and left the galley to make his way to the wheelhouse, leaving the cook to return to his own duties.

Englehorn lost track as to how many hours he'd been stationed in the wheelhouse of his ship, but it was probably the best place for him to gain a sense of clarity by focusing on his charts and readings. They were lucky to have only had one storm so far, especially since it was a small one. But from the clouds looming on the horizon, he suspected another one was soon to follow. Given how rough the current was becoming, it was likely to be much more hazardous. He hadn't had much contact with the crew except for when the occasional shift changes sent someone to helm the wheel. The most conversation he shared with anyone was with either Ben or Lumpy, and occasionally Choy when it concerned the ape. And even though he hadn't so much as seen Ashe, let alone speak to her, since their last rather heated conversation in the hold, he had stayed true to his word. He'd had her under constant watch by his most trusted men. The Captain's suspicions of her hadn't been confirmed but they certainly hadn't been dismissed. It had been nearly three weeks since Hayes first brought him the news of sabotage, and since he confronted Ashe, there had been no more incidents. However that wasn't enough to label her guilty, but it definitely didn't do much to reflect any innocence.

"Still here," he heard the voice of his First Mate who had just passed through the entrance to the wheelhouse. "You look like you haven't slept in days. Might want to catch a few winks before that storm reaches us."

Rubbing his tired eyes, the Captain knew he was right. His body felt tired, sure, but he had been feeling too anxious to sleep. Aside from the incidents a few weeks ago, this voyage was so far running quite smoothly. But somewhere in his gut, he felt it was just the calm before the proverbial storm. It wouldn't be long until they reached the Cape of Good Hope to restock on a few things and for the men to have some shore leave to relax. They'd stay there for a day or so before making a quick push to this island Kong was supposed to be released on.

Sensing Englehorn's exhaustion, Ben put a hand on his shoulder, "You okay, Captain?"

Shrugging Hayes off dismissively, he shook his head as he stood at the window. Hayes stood behind the wheel, knowing it was best to leave Englehorn to sort out whatever was bothering him.

"It's about Ashe, right?" he noted. Judging from the exasperated glare from Will, he knew he was dead on. "Haven't seen a woman get under your skin this bad since that little spat in Rangoon."

Englehorn sighed irritably, "This is nothing like that. I didn't know she was married."

"It wasn't her husband who shot at you. And who's to say Ashe isn't?" Ben replied with a light laugh. "Not like she couldn't hide that if she wanted to."

The skipper chuckled, "I doubt there's a man alive able to tie that woman down. And even if there would, it sure as hell wouldn't be m-"

A small knock cut his sentence short. Both Ben and Englehorn turned to see Choy standing in the doorway.

"Sorry, Skipper," he interrupted. "You ask what Ashe doing."

"What is it?" he asked. Choy and Lumpy were a few of the men chosen to keep tabs on that woman. It was the only way to make sure what she was up to while on this ship. He made a mistake last time listening to Denham and shutting his crew out from the plan, and that was a mistake he had no intention of repeated. Englehorn stood quietly, listening intently to Choy's account of what occurred in the galley, from everything she said to Baxter to Ashe's confession at cheating. At the end of the story, he looked to Hayes.

"Did you know this?"

His First Mate could only shrug, "Yeah, Jimmy told me before I came up here. So the woman plays card games, big deal."

Looking back to Choy, "Alright, get back to work."

The china man was quick to comply, having fulfilled his duty, leaving Ben and Englehorn alone. The Captain stared pensively at the horizon ahead of them.

"Something wrong?" Hayes asked.

"Seems I'll need to catch some rest at another time," he said with a sigh of irritation. Without looking to his First Mate, the Captain left the bridge within seconds, leaving Hayes to wonder what seemed so important. Englehorn seemed to suspect something amiss concerning that poker game, but he was in no mood to see what drama could possibly come from that.

"This is going to be one _hell_ of long voyage," he said to himself dispiritedly.

The night sky was cloaked with ominous clouds that foretold the severity of the storm to come. Standing at the bow of the ship and leaning against the railing, Ashe lit up another cigarette as she stared down at the waves up heaving from the force of the propellers below. The ship itself was swaying more heavily than usual and the tide was forcing the waves to crash higher and higher the closer they drew to the storm. Some was the sea sprayed a mist of salty water lightly in Ashe's face, but she didn't seem to mind. The mere scent of the ocean was soothing enough to bring her a sense of calm before having to deal with the upcoming tempest. However, as soothing as she felt by the sound of the waves, she still caught the sound of footsteps approaching from behind. The familiar wide stride of the boots told her who was there without her even looking back.

"Been a while, Captain," she said quietly before hearing him come to a stop. "Any problems you care to blame me for?"

"Anything you care to confess?" he replied coolly.

Ashe gave a small amused chuckle as she turned around and leaned against the rail calm as could be with a mischievous grin, "Oh I have _many _things I should confess. Nothing pertaining to the ship, per say, but definitely a few things that could keep a priest's attention for a few hours at least."

Englehorn refrained from the crooked smile that begged to show on his lips. He walked forward until he was leaning against the railing beside her. Lighting his own cigarette, he looked back at her, "You don't strike me as a deviant."

"Ha, well, I'm sure as hell no angel," she laughed. "I mean, face it. We first met at a rundown bar on the worst neighborhood near the docks. It's not like I don't have my own share of vices."

"Cheating people out of their money one of those vices?" he responded, eyeing her suspiciously.

Returning his gaze, her smile didn't falter, "Oh please, I admitted that I played them for suckers _eveb_ though they'd never realize it. It's not as if I even kept the money."

"An odd act of honesty," Will added, taking a drag from his cigarette.

"It's not like I need the money," she admitted with a shrug. "What am I gonna do? Pay a passing dolphin to bring me the Sunday paper?"

Despite the bitter smirk, Englehorn said with a serious tone, "What are you really playing at?" Ashe glanced at him in confusion. He continued, "You and I both know you were in the game for more than just some clever antic to rile the crew."

"Perceptive, Captain," she commented, impressed. "Seems Choy and Lumpy _are_ keeping you well informed." Now it was Englehorn's turn to look confused, even though he was using that expression to mask the surprise he felt at her accurate deduction. That only seemed to amuse Ashe even more. "Your spies aren't quite as inconspicuous as either you or they claim to be. I know when I'm being watched…well, when it comes to amateurs."

Englehorn held his tongue for a moment to avoid appearing caught. Ashe patted him on the shoulder as she exhaled a small puff of smoke from her lips, "Relax, I'm just more observant than people tend to give me credit for."

"So I've heard," he said.

Ashe was quiet for a moment then sighed, "You're referring to what I said to Baxter."

The Captain nodded, "It appears you upset him with your accusations."

"I'd hardly call what I said to him as an accusation," she chuckled. "He's just easy to read. Most people are, in fact."

"Easy to read?" he asked in curiosity.

Giving a soft shrug, she explained, "People are like books, Englehorn. You read enough over the years and the plots become predictable. How they begin, how the chapters flow, and ultimately how they would likely end. It's not an exact science but it's pretty handy when you want to know what buttons to push and just how much pressure to apply." Offering a sideways glance to him, she smirked.

"And to what end would you make you want to read people?" he pressed.

"Same reason all people would," she answered. "To learn what secrets they hide, to see what drives them. It's the same for you when you try to read me."

"Who says I'm reading you?" the Captain asked with a thin smile.

Ashe rolled her eyes, "You do, of course. If you're not watching my every move then you have one of your lackeys do it for you. I get it, you don't trust me."

Folding his arms across his chest when he felt the cool chill of the wind hit his face, he said, "You haven't exactly given the crew much cause for trust."

"The crew….or you?" she replied. He didn't reply but Ashe had a feeling she was right. Shaking her head slowly, "I'm not here to make friends, Will. I'm here because it's my job."

The look in his eyes practically shouted that he was unconvinced. Looking out at the sea, Ashe thought for a moment before turning back to Englehorn. She couldn't tell him everything. Even if she could, where would she start? What difference would it make? It wasn't a total lie, what she told him. She was here because it was her _job_. If there was any chance to be free of her old life, this assignment was her one and only ticket out. Truthfully, his lack of trust wasn't entirely without merit. He'd been burned before, and not just by Denham from what she had learned from the files supplied by Cunningham. But this was the life _he_ chose. Honesty wasn't a guarantee afforded to most in this world.

Moments of uneasy quiet passed by before Ashe took a deep breath, "I know you have _no_ reason to trust me. And you shouldn't. I'm not a good person, I won't deny that. I've done a hell of a lot of things I'll never take pride in. _But_ I give you my word, my only intention is to get this ape to that preserve." Taking a deep breath, she had to swallow the bitter taste of the words that followed. "I _need_ you to trust me, Will."

Looking from the sea to the woman standing beside him, the Captain took a few minutes to think before he could respond. Her voice was so adamant in her request. He'd have never taken her for someone so hell bent in nature. It was slightly reminiscent of Denham, so determined to reach Skill Island all those months ago. But there was hint of sincerity in her tone that the director lacked. Finally, he spoke, "I've been down this road before. In the end, my men are the ones who pay the price."

Jaw tightening, Ashe avoided his gaze by looking to the horizon, "Everything has its price." Returning her eyes to the Captain, she continued, "Even putting trust in a stranger who, well let's face it, isn't exactly worthy of much credit."

Exasperated, Englehorn sighed, "You're never going to give me a straight answer, are you? No explanation that isn't marred by holes and half truths." He stepped closer and she saw in his eyes the subtle hint that he was torn emotionally.

Lowering her gaze in a surprising show of humility and disquiet, "I'm telling you only what you need to know. A few weeks ago, you accused me of sabotage. I'm getting to the bottom of it. I know what I'm doing. You have my word, I _will _make sure this trip goes according to plan. We get the ape to the location and you and your crew will never hear from me ever again."

Before he was offered the chance to comment, Ashe turned and made her way to the staircase leading below deck. So the poker games were just ploys to find out who was behind whoever was meddling with the voyage. How a game of cards could give her information seemed absurd. All he could do was wait and see if Ashe's methods would work. Standing there alone, Englehorn took off his hat and rand his fingers through his hair in exhaustion. That woman was going to be the death of him. He just knew it.

Ashe couldn't remember the last time she felt so frustrated. She was off her game at the worst possible time. Her walk to her cabin was set at a faster pace, hoping like hell that Englehorn wouldn't follow after her, pestering her with his annoying questions and look of contempt. What made it all the more aggravating was the fact that he had every right to do just that. Given the last voyage was based on false promises, only a fool would take a stranger's word at face value. It was just _so_ tiresome to keep defending her own motives _over and over_ again. It was like rereading a single chapter in a book perpetually repeating a single sentence.

Muttering curses in various languages under her breath to ease the tension building in the back of her mind, Ashe turned the next corner to reach her room. As soon as she did, she found herself standing face to face with a very pissed of McGarry glaring. If looks could kill, she'd be six feet under in a heartbeat. Her own pace was so fast, she very nearly ran into the man.

With a surprised half smile, Ashe said, "I didn't expect to see you tonight."

McGarry just stood there, his face as still as stone and just as cold. He stood a good foot higher than she did, and despite his age his own physique was muscular and bulky. She hadn't noticed before, given the smoky atmosphere of the galley during the game, but he had a somewhat faded scar from just below his right here that trailed his jaw line. The faint hint of liquor was evident in his breath.

Still no response after a few moments, she continued shrugged, "Okay, well that's not entirely true, I figured you would want a chat. I was just sorta hoping it wouldn't be so soon."

"You think you're so clever…" he took a step forward, a vein his throat pulsing in a rather obvious sight.

"Well….yeah," she replied with a sheepish short laugh. "Not to brag but-"

She was cut off when his hand lunged for her throat and pinned her against the wall in a lightning fast motion. His hold tightened, making it hard to breath. McGarry kept his grip firm, and she could see in his eyes the desire to see her squirm like a scared mouse caught by a cat.

"Is this… the part where… I get scared?" she managed to say despite the pressure his massive hand was applying. The smirk on her lips wasn't helping, but Ashe was never one to give anyone the pleasure of seeing even an ounce of fear. "I'm... a little rusty at these sort…of confrontations."

"Maybe this will help," he spat. With his spare hand, he pulled a menacing bowie knife from his back pocket, and held it a little too close to her face.

Looking from the tip of the blade to McGarry, "Well….now that I think about it….." She paused for a moment, but the smirk stayed on her face. If anything, it grew bigger, "Nope…sorry. I got nothing." A second passed, and her nose wrinkled, "Though…. I might add a shower might help…"

Pushing her harder against the wall, her attacker's nostrils flared and he put the tip of the blade right on her left cheek, "Think you're funny, do you?"

She replied with a modest shrug, "I've been known….," her speech was a little strained," to crack a few smiles here… and there. Nothing too lively, I admit… but I do have a few good jokes. Like…. a priest and a….rabbi…walk into a bar…and-"

Giving her a sudden and violent jerk, the old sailor growled like a bear who just lost its honey," _Shut up_, you cocky bitch!"

Holding up her hands in mock defense, Ashe rolled her eyes, "Sheesh, fine. Tsk…bit touchy. You might want…to get a sense of humor….with that shower."

His buttons finally pushed just the way she liked, his temper erupting like an overdue volcano, McGarry snapped. Slinging the blade on the floor, his free hand curled in a fist so tightly that his very knuckles turned white. Reeling his arm back to land what would undoubtedly be unpleasant, Ashe took this opportunity to see just how out of practice she was. Applying pressure to the arm pinning her so firmly against the wall merely with the tips of her fingers, her eyes flashed as the combination of adrenaline and exhilaration took complete control. Finding just the right nerves that the muscles in his arm rely on at this moment, the force she used allowed the constraint he possessed to loosen just enough to allow her to sidestep what would undoubtedly be a unpleasant blow. The momentum in his swing was powerful, where her face was just a half a second earlier, his fist went through the very wall. Her ear just a hairline from his fist, she heard the cracking of both wood and bone.

Regardless of the damage done to his hand, McGarry did little more than snarl before he pulled his bloodied fist from the wall. Regaining his footing, he was taken aback by the agility she displayed as another strike landed nothing but air. Without even the slightest change in her surprisingly calm composure, she evaded another attempted blow with such fluid grace, it was as if she moved like the water of a stream. The old sailor grew more enraged by the moment. Taking note of his growing lack of patience, Ashe couldn't help but find this little scuffle amusing. Well, maybe scuffle was too strong a word. It seemed more like a tantrum.

"Careful there, McGarry," she mockingly chided, "That little temper of yours is costing you more than you realize."

The animal in him was taking over. He lunged for her with such speed; his body could practically crush her much smaller frame if she were any slower. Luckily, it was, in fact, his size was his greatest weakness. After dodging his charge, in less than a second she landed a strong round kick to the back of his knee which resulted in a very loud crack of what she knew was his patella. A gasp of pain escaped from McGarry's lips but he still stands. Wheeling about he swung his fist, but failed to land yet another blow. Like a blur, Ashe took a firm grip on his outstretched arm with ease and pinned it against his back. The tables turned, she forced his shaking bulk of a body against the very wall he had her against only moments ago.

He struggled like a worm on a hook, but Ashe's grip remained as tight as a vice. With an irritated sigh, she warned, "You keep squirming like a flailing fish, and I _will_ break your fingers, one by one."

Personally, Ashe didn't _want _to break the old guy's arm. For one, crippling one of his crew wouldn't earn her any brownie points with the Captain. In fact, it would just be one more lovely reason for him to chew her ass out. McGarry, however, had little interest in her reasons for restraint, as was evident in his blatant refusal at her request.

Rolling her eyes, she took a deep breath, "Have it your way."

Immediately, another crack sounded, and McGarry let out a muffled yell between his gritted teeth, "_You goddamn bitch! Who the hell are you!"_

"Tsk, tsk, McGarry," Ashe warned. "I find name calling a little immature. "

"_Let me go! I'll bloody kill you!"_ He struggled more, but Ashe only slammed him harder into the wall with enough force it cracked the wooden panel.

"You know we really need to work on your impulse control," she sighed. "Now, you listen." His jaw clenched, but he said nothing and stopped moving as much. She continued, "Now, I apologize if my little game upset you. Nothing personal, but I needed information. And the answers I seek aren't going to be given with a simple, polite question."

"What the hell are you talking about?" He asked as he gradually calmed down. "What information?"

"Just a little inquiry," she replied. "And I think I've learned what I needed. Now, if you can behave, I am going to release you. Can you be a good boy and be civil? I'd hate to break more bones, but I'm really not that nice of a person so take my advice and don't test me. Do you under-"

She was cut off by a familiar voice from behind that did not sound the least bit happy, _"What in the hell is going on here?"_

Ashe paused, yet McGarry remained pin. Glancing over her shoulder, she saw the Captain and Choy standing there. The Captain's face was absolutely livid. Choy stood behind him, his eyes averting her own, telling her it was he who must have got Englehorn. She was so focused on McGarry, she completely overlooked the fact that someone might have been watching. But she was a tad bit too preoccupied to worry about the chance for onlookers

A few uneasy seconds of silence passed, Ashe turned her face back to McGarry. With a hint of irritation in her voice, she released her hold and stepped back. Her attacker kept his less injured hand on the wall to balance himself. Turning around, she then explained, "Just clearing the air, Cap'n. Nothing to worry yourself over."

The Captain's gaze ventured from an exhausted McGarry, to the hole in wall on one side of the hallway, the crack in the opposite wall, and then to the knife on the ground before his feet. Finally, his eyes rested on Ashe.

"Ashe, can I see you in the wheelhouse," By his tone, it wasn't exactly a request. Rolling her eyes, she walked down the hall towards the stairs leading to the deck. When she was out of sight, Englehorn shot a cool glare back to McGarry.

"We'll discuss this later, "he then said. His tone was no different with the sailor than with Ashe. Judging by the expression on McGarry's face, it was evident the sailor wasn't looking forward to getting his ass chewed out by the Captain. Turning around, Englehorn left in the same direction as Ashe. Choy looked nervously to McGarry before scurrying away quickly.

Englehorn made his way up to the deck and climbed the stairs leading to the wheelhouse. Once he was inside the bridge, he looked from Ashe who was leaned against the door frame to Hayes who was standing at the steering wheel.

"Mr. Hayes, I need the room for a few minutes," he said. His First Mate recognized the severity of his voice and looked from the Captain to Ashe curiously.

Ashe returned his gaze and shrugged but said nothing. Ben nodded shortly and left the two alone. She was purposely keeping her eyes focused on anything but Englehorn who she could feel looking at her with more murder in his expression than McGarry. She assumed he was trying to find out where to begin, given his frustrated paciing back and forth until he finally game to a stop.

"So...when do you start with the yelling?" she asked, finally facing him. His jaw tightened but she continued, "I just need to know at what point I tune you out."

Her lighthearted voice seemed to do little cooling his temper, "Is this all a damn joke to you?"

Biting her lip, she rolled her head to pop her neck in exhaustion. This night was getting better and better.


End file.
